Ginny, Draco, and Luna sat in a triangle at the infamous daycare in Diagon Alley. They were in the back of the daycare, the workers not watching them too closely as all three seemed to be able to behave themselves better than most kids their age. Little grownups, the workers would call them.

But today the trio was busy having a discussion. A discussion about marriage and best friends, though how it even came up none of them would have been able to tell you. Though later on it would be realized that there had been faerie influence on all three of them that particular day.

“Well,” Ginny said, “My mum said you’re supposed to marry your very best friend, and Draco is my very bestest friend.”

Luna nodded, her blue eyes big and round. She could have taken that as a slight, but Luna knew that she had been late to the meetings Draco and Ginny had daily. They had known each other longer so of course they were best friends. It didn’t mean they loved her any less at all.

“My daddy says the same thing,” Draco said, tossing his blond hair out of his grey eyes. “But how do we make sure we’ll do it? What if we forget?”

Luna looked around and saw a wand lying on the ground unattended. It looked for all the world like a faerie wand. Like the wand Muggles saw in The Wizard of Oz with a star and streamers. Luna ran to it with all the jubilation of a four-year-old and came running back with it.

“If you make an Unbreakable Vow then you HAVE to get married,” Luna said sagely, as though she held the wisdom of the Universes. Even at four, she was such a Ravenclaw.

This seemed to make sense, and Draco and Ginny clasped hands, Luna holding the wand as they swore to get married when they both became adults.

There was a loud shriek as one of the daycare workers escorted Mrs. Malfoy back to her son, only to see him locked hand in hand with Ginny, a bright chord of light tying their hands together.

“Draco! What have you done?” Narcissa yelled, sounding for all the world like a banshee.

Draco smiled widely and said, “I vowed to marry my best friend, Ginny.”

And with that, Narcissa Malfoy promptly fainted.

Draco was seventeen when they showed him that memory, and he felt like someone had just punched him in the stomach. Him? Marry a Weasley? He hadn’t even known there was ever even such a thing as Wizarding daycare or that he had gone to it. And now his parents were staring at him as though they were wincing in pain, and Draco wanted to hotly deny that he would have anything to do with marrying a Weasley.

But he couldn’t. He’d seen the memory. He hadn’t just vowed to marry Ginny, he had vowed to stay with her forever once they married. There would be no divorce, no end in sight for this miserable existence. Draco Malfoy was going to be forced into a marriage he didn’t want to a girl he was sure wanted him even less.

“How the bloody hell did this even happen? How could those daycare workers be so bloody incompetent?” Draco cried, wanting desperately to be able to blame someone, anyone.

Narcissa cringed. “It seems… well, we’ve shown the memory to several researchers, and they all seem to think this was brought about by a Faerie. That was a Faerie wand in the memory, after all. They tend to meddle in people’s lives, but usually for the better. So… it may not seem like it now, but perhaps this is for the best,” she tried in her best cheery voice.

“Does Weasley know?” Draco demanded.

“Ginevra is being told this morning. You will be married in six months, right before Ginevra becomes an adul,t so as to fulfill the stipulations of the vow. We will start preparations soon. Call her by her name,” Lucius ordered.

“Why? She is a blood traitor! You are actually going to let this happen?” Draco demanded.

Lucius rolled his eyes. “Would you really rather die?” he asked in a resigned voice.

As Draco floundered about for an answer, Lucius realized he had spoiled his son too much. He had wanted Draco to have the best of everything because he knew he wouldn’t be marrying for love or even money. Draco would be marrying to save his own life due to something he had done as a five year old.

It was sad. Lucius inwardly agreed that the daycare workers should have been paying more attention, but if that truly was a faerie wand, nothing could stop faerie magic. It was fate.

So were Draco and Ginevra fated to be together? A Malfoy and a Weasley?

“I don’t want Potter’s girlfriend!” Draco shouted stubbornly.

This was going to be fun.

~~~


Snape and McGonagall had an idea. Well, it was mostly McGonagall. Severus Snape was not going to claim any part of this in case it did not go well. Having found out about Draco and the Weasley girl’s predicament, she had decided that the two needed to get to know each other in a believable way. Namely, detention.

Draco was there first, ten minutes early as usual, skulking about and sneering. His face wasn’t pleasant to behold, and the look McGonagall gave Snape suggested that if this was what Ginny Weasley had to wake up to every morning for the rest of forever, then she felt pity for the young woman.

Ginny was five minutes late to the dungeon classroom. Her hair looked like she had tried to tame the curls in a French braid, but tendrils had escaped and were crackling about her head like fire. Her brown eyes shone amber, and her lips were chapped from being bitten so much the past few days.

“Ah, Miss Weasley, this is Mr… well, this is Draco Malfoy,” McGonagall finished.

Ginny looked petite, like she could easily be broken in a Quidditch game. She looked like she had no fight in her. How was she even a Gryffindor, Snape wondered.

And then she lifted a brow and met Draco’s sneer with a slap clean across his face.

“If I am to be your wife, you will treat me as such. Neither of us has a say in this matter. I am the one who has to get pregnant with your child and give you an heir. The least you can do is pretend to like me if you can’t find it in you to actually like me,” Ginny ordered.

Draco stood up, glowering at Ginny, his frame towering over hers, and yet she looked unafraid. She looked as though she had accepted what was to happen and was damned sure going to make the best of the worst situation.

“Don’t touch me,” Draco hissed.

Ginny took her hand and poked Draco in his arm deliberately, as if to say ‘fuck you.’

“You’re the one who didn’t want to forget about marrying me. If it weren’t for you, we could be perfect strangers,” Ginny said easily.

Draco looked incensed. “That was a faerie wand! It would have happened no matter what!”

Ginny gave a small smile. “Yes, Draco, it would have. Faeries deal with fate, if I am correct. The only time they meddle is to make fate became a reality when it is unlikely to happen on its own. So you can be pissed that we are in this predicament. But this, as you just admitted, was meant to be. So the best thing to do is at least try to be civil to one another.”

“You slapped me!” Draco screeched.

Ginny shrugged. “You were going to call me a blood traitor. I was just preemptive in my strike is all.”

Draco looked like there were several things he wanted to say, but instead he sat down, still glaring.

“My name is Ginevra, but you can call me Ginny.”

Ginny wasn’t happy. Who would be if they had been told they had to marry the prissy Draco Malfoy? He was a spoiled, entitled brat, and quite frankly Ginny could not stand it. She planned to beat it out of him if she had to. Not literally of course—violence was never the answer, he had just looked like he deserved to be slapped last night—but through her sheer willpower.

Ginny imagined Draco had only had his parents to tell him, though. What a sad prospect. McGonagall had been present, explaining the intricacies that were known of Faerie magic to her, and why she did indeed believe it could only be the work of the Faeries. So while Ginny had been shocked—”you mean Harry isn’t my soulmate?”—she had a better support system to help her through. No one in her family was exactly happy about it. If truth was told, her brothers wanted to kill Draco Malfoy. Especially Ron. He seemed to think that was the easiest way to get rid of the problem. It was rather amusing.

Ginny Weasley wasn’t a quitter. She had a fire in her soul that never died. She was the youngest—and most powerful, even Dumbledore had said so once—out of seven siblings. So how did Draco Malfoy expect that he could run all over her? And she was going to have his baby because dammit one day she wanted to be a Mum. After her Quidditch career was over, of course. One couldn’t have both at the same time; not feasibly at least. Quidditch was constant practices and games. It would require long periods of being away. And Ginny was getting the attention of the Holyhead Harpies already.

Ginny liked to thank Professor Slughorn for that. A man who had come back to teach at Hogwarts under Dumbledore’s plea. He had taken over the Potions position—which meant that Snape taught Defense, and Harry and him had butted heads the whole way until Harry left—and Slughorn liked Ginny. He said she had raw talent that he hadn’t seen in ages. That she could have taken on a young Dumbledore and given him a run for his money. And he knew Gwenog Jones, captain of the Holyhead Harpies. So he’d sent Gwenog an owl. And she had shown up to a game, and so began Ginny’s possible career.

Gwenog wouldn’t take her until she was done with her schooling, though. They’d been through a bloody war—Draco returning for his seventh year, Ginny just going into it—and she had to wait to go out and be a Quidditch player? It was ridiculous. Hadn’t they all seen—and done—enough? She knew magic no one had ever thought she was capable of. She had battled with Bellatrix Lestrange. She’d shared minds with a young Tom Riddle. She had killed in the Final Battle. And she had to wait to ride a bloody broomstick?

But it was what it was, as she often told herself. She watched from her seat in the Great Hall at the Gryffindor table as Draco Malfoy came to breakfast looking haughty. Whose wand was shoved up his arse? she wondered. He always looked as though something were wrong in his world. They’d been through a fucking war; they deserved some jubilation!

Ginny made what one could call a Slytherin decision. It was surely calculated and manipulative. She’d be damned if she’d let Pansy Parkinson try to snuggle up to her unwanted man. No matter how much of an arse Draco was, he was to be her husband, and Pansy Parkinson was not going to stop that.

So with all the calculated Slytherin in her, and the brashness of her Gryffindor self, Ginny Weasley got up, strolled over to the Slytherin table, and sat down next to Draco Malfoy, who simply looked at her as though she were crazy.

“Yes?” he asked, when it was plain she wasn’t going to get up and leave or say anything.

Ginny shrugged. “I thought we could eat together.”

And Draco wanted to tell her to get the hell away from him. He didn’t want her, no matter how pretty she was—and sure, he would admit she was pretty—but he knew they were going to have to eventually come to terms with each other. But did that mean right now? Couldn’t they wait until after school was over and then pretend like something life changing had happened?

“Weasley,” Parkinson said snottily, “Your place is with the losers,” she said, gesturing towards the Gryffindor table.

Ginny smirked. “Last time I checked we won the bloody war, so whose the real loser… bitch?”

Pansy Parkinson gasped, and Ginny looked ready to climb over Draco to punch Pansy dead in the face. No one had told him his future wife was going to be this feisty. Draco pinched the bridge of his nose as the two women began squawking at each other—because it certainly wasn’t talking. Normal, civil people talked and Weasley was not civil—until McGonagall and Snape came to sort out the mess.

“She called me a bitch!” Pansy screeched, standing up and pointing at Ginny.

Ginny gasped and put a hand over her mouth feigning shock.

“I would never use such terrible language. How dare you!”

And just like he knew they would, the teachers turned to the only person who’d been nearby. Draco Fucking Malfoy. It wasn’t enough that he was already a Slytherin outcast. It wasn’t enough that he had no power or influence with his name. Now, not even forty-eight hours after discovering Weasley was to be his wife, he had decide whether or not to back her story.

But was that really a tough decision? He would be spending literally everyday with her. Even if her Quidditch career did take off, they’d still be married. Still have at least one child together. They’d still have to deal with each other. And Draco knew women. If he didn’t take her side now he would never hear the end of it.

“Weasley said a lot of things, but she certainly didn’t say that. Really, Pansy, lying?” he asked as he brought the cup of coffee to his mouth.

And Ginny wore the biggest smirk, as though she had just won the whole bloody war all over again. And if Draco had paid attention he might have thought her beautiful, but he was busy burying himself in his misery. Which demanded more and more coffee. Coffee until he was fucking shaking from the caffeine. Sugar until he had a sugar crash later. He needed something, and dammit he needed it now.

“Draco!” Pansy screamed as McGonagall docked points and assigned detention. But Draco didn’t respond to her. He simply poured more coffee and scooped heaping amounts of sugar into it. Maybe he could make it through the day if he just had enough coffee.

Parkinson stalked off, huffing and clearly not knowing why she had been turned on. Well soon the whole school would know. Weasley had probably told everyone the way it was. As Ginny clambered back onto the bench to sit next to him, he rounded on her, already having it in his head that she’d gone and told the whole school their… situation.

“Does everyone already bloody know?” he hiss under his breath, just in case they didn’t actually know.

Ginny looked at him like he was dumb.

“Know what?”

Draco lifted a brow and motioned between them, and Ginny fell into peals of laughter, causing everyone else who hadn’t been watching the great Weasley/Parkinson debacle to now look over and wonder just what in the bloody hell was going on.

“I haven’t told a soul. I figured, since no one remembers, no one needs to know how this,” and Ginny gestured between them “came about. We could just say we found one another attractive.”

And Draco had to give her points because clearly she wasn’t just some dumb Gryffindor who rushed into battle without thinking. This girl was quick on her toes, and she had some flame in her soul that kept her glowing. She was interesting to say the least.

“Right, good. Then… Hogsmeade this weekend. How about we make it an official date? I asked you because I love the wildness of your hair,” he said lamely, causing Ginny to laugh more.

When she had calmed down, she nodded. “Okay, that works. I’ll see you in class, Draco.”

And with that, Ginny flounced back to the Gryffindor table, leaving everyone else in the Great Hall gossiping about what could possibly be going on between Draco and Ginny.

The staff that knew of the situation was in an uproar about the news. Personally, Horace didn’t see why. Faerie magic was binding. If it was Fate, then something was at play that was larger than any of them. He knew he’d been right to take an interest in Ginny Weasley, and this just further proved his point. But had he been remiss in overlooking Draco Malfoy? He had been so scared to nurture another Slytherin after Tom Riddle had basically broken his poor heart.

Minerva was having a hell of a time keeping this quiet. Everyone had to sign non-disclosure agreements—apparently they’d been Ms. Granger’s idea, and if anyone talked they were cursed—and keep their mouths shut. The school was abuzz about the fact that Ginny was going with Draco to Hogsmeade. Apparently Ms. Weasley had told someone. Crafty, that young woman. Leave a trail, make everyone think her and Draco became something, and no one need ever know the truth of what had happened.

Horace sipped his scotch, wondering. It had been so long since the Faeries had gotten involved in anything to do with wizards. They tended to stick to the Muggle world, helping out with world peace leaders and such. So what was so important about Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Weasley’s relationship that they would become involved?

Horace didn’t know, but he was certainly interested to find out.

~~~

For the most part, nothing happened between Draco and Ginny. Except she did like to throw bits of parchment at him in Charms class, and then look completely innocent when he would turn around. But he knew it was her. Who else would it be? Dean Thomas? Seamus Finnigan? Although they did laugh when it happened, Draco very much doubted Ginny would have let them get away with that. She was rather mysterious.

So when she sat down next to him in the Great Hall Friday morning and everyone began craning their necks, Draco wasn’t sure what to say besides ‘hello’ and ‘how are you’ which were both lame and both ignored by the redhead.

“Where are we meeting tomorrow morning for our date?” she asked.

“It’s right after breakfast, so since you obviously have no qualms about sitting at my table, you could just come and have breakfast with me, and then we could go to Hogsmeade together,” Draco answered.

Ginny nodded. “Okay, that works for me. By the way, how are you in Potions?”

Draco arched a brow. “Why not ask Granger?”

Ginny sighed dramatically before responding. “Because she acts as though I should already understand it, and she isn’t good at explaining anything. She just repeats what the textbook says back at me in different inflections hoping one sticks with me and hits the right way. I love Hermione. She is wonderful. But she is not meant to be a teacher.”

Draco chuckled, imagining only too well how Granger probably sounded when she tried to tutor Ginny.

“I’m second best in the class. Do you need help?”

Ginny nodded. “I’m terrible at mixing antidotes. I just don’t get it. Like at all. And I’m sure that will be part of our N.E.W.T.s, and even though I’m going to be a Quidditch player, Mum wants to brag that I did better than any of the boys.”

“When do you have a free period?” Draco asked, and Ginny dug in her bag, pulling out her schedule as though she couldn’t remember.

She handed it to him, and he glanced over it, realizing it would be easier to just meet in the evening in the library, which he said as much. Ginny nodded and thanked him, telling him she owed him for this.

“I mean think of it as a wedding gift,” Draco joked, freezing as he said it, but no one was listening.

Ginny laughed. “No way you prat. I want something grand for that. I’ll see you in the library at six thirty.”

And with that Ginny was gone, her wild and untamable hair leaving behind a floral scent that made him think of jasmine in the summertime. She was an interesting one, that Weasley girl, Draco found himself thinking. He wasn’t sure he liked her, but he definitely didn’t mind her so far. They might never love each other as his mother and father did, but Draco wondered if they couldn’t one day end up being the best of friends.

~~~

Draco was about to get up and leave when Weasley slid into the sit across from him looking out of breath. Draco was scowling at her, and she began fanning herself with some parchment.

“Sorry, last minute Quidditch practice and Gwenog Jones showed up. It was unavoidable. I ran all the way here. I have my stuff though,” she said, and began pulling her potions textbook out of her bag.

Draco was entranced by her hair. Or maybe he was mesmerized. It almost seemed to be it’s own living, breathing, crackling thing. As though if he touched it, it might burn him. Or never let him go. It was obvious she had braided it back for Quidditch, but the force of her flying had brought a lot of it out of the braid, and it was glowing in the library light as though taunting Draco.

“So, Golpalott’s Third Law…” Ginny began, looking up at Draco.

He took her book and shut it, pushing it away, and she looked at him as though he were crazy.

“The textbook definition isn’t a good one. Let me break it down. So for an antidote to be an antidote, you need more than just the antidote to each ingredient in the poison. You need the final component that will make the antidote it’s own new, functioning entity,” Draco explained.

“But how the hell am I supposed to know, out of all the ingredients out there, what will work best to make the antidote it’s own thing?”

Draco steep-led his fingers. “That is where intuition comes in. You have to look at all the ingredients. What do they have in common? Waty don’t they have in common? What could tie them together? What could—if added—make them explosive? It’s very tricky business, which is why antidotes are so expensive. But if you can look at a poison and see the ingredients, and see what all the ingredients have in common, what they don’t have in common, and what the ingredients in the antidote itself have in common, you will have the answer.”

Ginny groaned, putting her head down on the table as though she were done. Draco opened a first year Potion’s book he had brought with.

“I am going to teach you on a very easy skill level. Once you understand it, you will be able to easily apply the principle to any and all potions regardless of the complexity,” Draco said.

And they sat there for a good hour, Ginny writing down everything an ingredient in a cheering draught had in common.

“So… these all are about being happy, obviously, but they also share the property of luck.”

“Exactly,” Draco said. “It’s nowhere near Felix Felicis, but it does indeed have that in common. So if you wanted to undo it, how would you?”

Ginny sat there for a moment before saying “I’d use ingredients to take down the luck, once I’d taken down the cheerfulness.”

Draco clapped his hands together, getting a rude look from a nearby study group.

“Exactly. That works on the next level to undo the last of the binds of the potion. You got it, Ginny,” he said, proud of her suddenly, her tardiness completely forgotten.

Ginny let out a sigh of relief as she wrote down the last ingredient, and Draco said that yes, she was right.

“That was hard,” Ginny groaned.

Draco arched a brow. “But you learned how to do it. So if you’re ever in a situation where you need it, you know you can do it.”

“What if time is of the essence?” Ginny asked, resting her head in her hands.

“Well this year we do a lot of antidote work, so you’ll get a lot better at doing it fast. It’ll become second nature. But if you want, we can meet weekly to go over potion ingredients’ properties so you can be on top of your game for it,” Draco offered.

Ginny lifted her head up and nodded. “That is a wonderful idea, Draco. You know you’d make a decent teacher. I couldn’t understand that book definition at all. It just went right over my head.”

Draco felt his mouth tug into a smile at the compliment. “Thanks, Ginny. You know, you don’t make a bad Quidditch player yourself.”

At this Ginny grinned.

“Just think, Draco, two weeks from now we will be playing against each other. You better bring your A game.”

Draco laughed, getting shushed by the study group, the snotty bunch of Ravenclaws.

“I always bring my A game, Ginevra.”

And at that she beamed.

Draco was sipping his morning coffee when Ginny sat down next to him, her bag slung across her body. She wore jeans and some formfitting t-shirt, and Draco noticed that she wasn’t exactly curvaceous. She was lean and muscular, but unlike Pansy she didn’t have the curves in all the right places. Still, she was pretty, and Draco thought her hair was her best feature. Not that he’d tell her that just yet.

“Hey, Draco,” she said as she reached over him to get some coffee, completely at easy in the snake pit.

“Hey, Ginny,” he responded, moving back to give her better access.

This morning all Slytherins were up, and the tables were crowded. Draco was still at the end of the Slytherin table, mostly ignored although his fellow Slytherins were muttering and looking at Ginny with something akin to disgust. He knew what they were thinking, as he had thought it too. She was a blood traitor. But really, Ginny wasn’t so bad. It was the people she hung out with. Her oaf of a brother. Her blasted Harry Potter. He idly wondered how Potter was taking the news.

“How’s the Chosen One these days now that he doesn’t have a girlfriend?”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Honestly, will the two of you just get over yourselves? He’s fine. He was there when I saw the memory, and he was disappointed, but he was honestly not that upset. Harry’s true love will always be saving others. Anyone else is just secondary, and I don’t know if I could deal with a guy like that for the rest of my life, so maybe… maybe it was for the best.”

She shrugged and put cream cheese on a bagel. Draco thought it a mark of her maturity that she was able to see that in him. But what would she do with being in Draco’s life? Surely none of this thrilled her. Yet here she was, going on a date—wait was this a real date, he thought panicked—with him and in six months time they would be married. The whole thing was surreal.

Ginny bit into the bagel and sipped some coffee, and both of them tried to wake up more fully.

“So where do you want to go when we get to Hogsmeade?” Draco asked.

Ginny swallowed a big gulp of coffee and answered. “I want to go to Zonko’s, but that’s a bit risky.”

Draco arched a brow in question, and Ginny answered.

“George bought them out for Weasley Wizard Wheezes, so he could be there. But out of all my brothers he seems to be the most reasonable about all this so… I’m not sure Draco. Aren’t there a lot of new side shops and stalls now?”

Draco shrugged. “I guess we will see when we get there. But if you want to go to Zonko’s we will go. Your brothers will just have to get over it. I’ve noticed none of them have sent you Howlers, yet.”

Ginny laughed. “I think the Howlers would have been addressed to you, but I threatened to hex them all if they did it. They’ll just have to get used to you, since you’re obviously not going anywhere.”

“Third years and up for Hogsmeade!” came McGonagall’s voice, and Ginny shoved the rest of her bagel in her mouth.

They got up and walked over to the entrance hall, Ginny still chewing her bagel. McGonagall looked at them both, Ginny gulping the bagel down and putting on a winning smile that made Draco laugh, and there was something in McGonagall’s eyes that Draco couldn’t readily identify.

“Alright you two. I know you have your forms. Now go,” she said, and they trudged out of the castle, Draco shaking his head at Ginny, who was still smiling.

The day was a nice one. It was breezy and cool, though not yet cold. Soon the weather would change, and they would be huddled up against snow, but for now it was perfect.

“So where are we going to live?” Ginny asked, after she had cast some charm around them so no one could listen.

“Well, there’s a small house that will be mine… I guess it already is technically. I just need to move there. It’s in Godric’s Hollow. It was passed down through my family for a very long time, but being as no one wanted to be associated with Gryffindor, no one wanted to live there. It’s nothing huge, but it comes with a House Elf, and it’s a nice two story house. The community is supposed to be great.”

Ginny had the biggest smile on her face. “I’ve always dreamed of living in Godric’s Hallow. Or any magical community. I know, we have the Diggory’s and the Lovegood’s not far from us. But it’s not the same as having next door neighbors who are wizards, you know?” she asked as they entered the little village.

“I do,” Draco agreed. “We’re so far from everyone else, and for me the Manor has so many bad memories. It’s nice to be away from there.”

Ginny nodded as they ambled towards Zonko’s.

“I can’t even imagine, Draco. That most have been a really tough period of time for you. To have Him in your house? I thought having Him in my mind was bad but… I’m not sure how I would have reacted.”

Draco hadn’t forgotten his father was the reason she had been possessed. He’d been keenly aware of it, in fact. He’d spent an hour last night thinking about how best to apologize for his father’s actions, but the truth was no apology was good enough, and he told her as much.

“Look,” Ginny said, stopping just outside of Zonko’s and putting her hand on Draco’s arm, “I know it’s not your fault. I don’t blame you at all. And the situation we are in is crazy, but it’s obviously Fate or it wouldn’t be happening. We just have to keep going down this road and see where it’ll take us. Now… ready to possibly deal with my brother?” and she had a wicked grin on her face as she grabbed his hand and pulled him inside Zonko’s, which was currently under construction to become WWW.

The shop was bright, as all the covered up windows had been uncovered, and they’d obviously built the building up taller to house the products. Love potions caught Draco’s eye, and the idea flitted through his mind for the briefest of seconds. But no, that wouldn’t be true love. If he was going to ever love her, he wanted it to be real.

Now where had that thought come from?

“Well, if it isn’t the amazing bouncing ferret,” came the twin with no ear’s voice, and Draco turned to see a hand outstretched towards him.

Ginny was standing behind her brother mouthing her apologies as Draco took his hand and said, “I prefer Draco these days.”

“You can call me George then, Draco, as titles are too formal. You might soon be family, but like the rest of Ginny’s boyfriends, you don’t get anything here for free.”

Draco arched a brow. “I can easily pay for Ginny and I.”

George lifted both brows as though impressed. “Okay, well then feel free to look around. Some of the stuff is still Zonko’s old products that we are hoping to sell off the shelves. But the rest of it is mine and… well, mine. Let me know if you have any questions. Oh and Ginny,” George said as Ginny tried to brush past him.

“Yes?” she asked innocently, turning her doe eyes on. George chuckled and hugged his sister, kissing the top of her head as she was rather short. And then George was gone to run the shop, leaving Draco and Ginny alone amongst the other shoppers in the store.

“Sorry,” Ginny apologized “My brother’s can be a bit much. Charlie is the easiest going. But he also tends to be the scariest because he works with dragons. George is just a prankster, so you have to look out for all types of practical jokes with him. Really, the only person with anything to say is Ron, and he will just have to get over himself eventually.”

Draco shrugged, looking down at her. Why hadn’t he noticed how short she was before? The rest of her brother’s were so tall, but Ginny didn’t seem to get that gene at all.

They perused the shelves, idly talking as Ginny stopped at several items, and Draco conjured a bag to carry them out with. If she wanted them, she would get them, he told her, and she wasn’t going to sway him.

“It’s not my money anymore, it’s our money, and there is a ton of it. So get used to it,” he snapped, which effectively shut her up for about five seconds, which was like a record or something.

“So what do you want to do after Hogwarts?” Ginny asked as Draco paid for their stuff at the counter, asking the witch to gift wrap Ginny’s products.

“I want to be an Unspeakable,” he said softly.

Ginny’s eyes went round as they left the shop, Draco holding the door for her.

“Why?” she asked.

Draco thought a moment before answering. “They work with the essence of magic, from what we do know about them. I think that would be kind of amazing to do. I heard talk about what all was in the Department of Mysteries, and no one seemed to think it important, but I did. If we could figure it all out, what couldn’t we create?”

Ginny nodded, biting at her lip as though mulling it over.

“And let me guess,” she said, “You have to have N.E.W.T.s in all subjects for that.”

Draco chuckled, holding her bag as he let her lead the way to the Three Broomsticks, where she was obviously wanting to go.

“You know, Draco, you aren’t so bad,” she teased.

“You aren’t too bad yourself. Now, Butterbeer?” he asked, and she nodded eagerly.

And they sat there for a good hour or two chatting about childhood memories, “I still don’t remember that daycare!” and talking about their hopes and fears. It was a good time, and as they walked back to Hogwarts, both ready for lunch and not wanting Rosmerta’s soup, Draco thought it’d been a pretty successful date, as far as dates went.

At the entrance hall Ginny took her bag, and she gazed up at Draco a moment before standing on her tiptoes, kissing him on the cheek for the whole school to see, and walking up the stairs to the Gryffindor common room.

Ginny was always surprised by Luna Lovegood. As her best friend, she should have expected Luna to no longer cease to amaze her, but when Luna sat down next to her in Transfiguration and whispered in her ear, “So are you and Draco finally going to get married like you vowed?” well Ginny fell right on out of her seat. Thank the gods she didn’t have this class with Draco, or that would have been rather embarrassing.

Picking up her wand and casting Muffliato, Ginny rounded on Luna, still whispering because she didn’t want anyone to know.

“You remember that?!”

Luna nodded her head. “Did a Wracksprut make you forget?” she asked.

Ginny sat there, stunned, and then admitted that yes, both she and Draco had forgotten.

“Most likely, if it was Faerie magic, the Faerie made you forget. Faerie magic is mysterious and hard to understand, but most Muggles forget their encounters with them, too. So maybe they did the same to the two of you. Are you going to tell everyone about the Vo-”

“Shhh!” Ginny hissed, though no one could hear, and then class was starting and Ginny was whispering to Luna.

“We don’t want anyone else to know.”

Luna tilted her head, blue eyes seeing everything like they did that day when Ginny was four and Draco was five. How strange. A small shiver went down Ginny’s spine. She got the strangest feeling with Luna sometimes, as though the girl were a Seer of some sort. It was bizarre.

McGonagall’s class went by without incident, and Ginny managed to transfigure her desk into a dog and back again, earning Gryffindor ten points.

“Anyone else would have given you twenty,” Hermione said, catching up with Ginny and Luna.

“You did it first, so you got it first!” Ginny said good natured-ly.

Ginny often wondered if it was weird for Hermione to be back at Hogwarts without her two best friends. She tried to include Hermione, but the other girl often wanted to spend her time studying. She was practically a nervous wreck these days.

“Gin, do you still want to go over Galplott’s Third Law? I was thinking of new ways to explain it and-”

Ginny cut her off.

“Actually, Draco helped me understand it. Rather quickly. He is a very good teacher. I’m sorry.”

Hermione stood there in the middle of the corridor, surveying Ginny before she said, “I’m glad you’re actually giving this a chance, and so is he.”

And then Hermione Granger walked away, leaving a speechless Ginny Weasley behind.

~~~

History of Magic was next, and they had it with Slytherin. Ginny was surprised when Draco slid into the seat beside her, passing her a note.

Ginny looked at Draco with a confused expression, and Draco rolled his eyes before mouthing the words “Open it.”

Ginny opened it and began reading.

Can I Slytherin to your Chamber of Secrets?

Ginny’s hands flew to her mouth as she tried to pass off the laughing fit as a coughing fit. Draco was too busy smirking to do much else but pat her back as though she’d actually been coughing. Not that Professor Binns would notice. He was as clueless as Harry Potter was when it came to sex. Which might explain why Ginny was still a virgin.

The thought made her cheeks flame, and she let her hair fall between her and Draco like a curtain until she could get herself under control. She would be marrying Draco. And in Pureblood marriages certain vows took place. Ones that forbade them to sleep with anyone else under penalty of death. It was a form of an Unbreakable Vow. Draco was going to be the only person Ginny would ever have sex with.

She put her head down on her desk, trying to soak that in. Draco wasn’t bad looking. In fact, when he wasn’t being a right prat, he was an intelligent, giving, somewhat hot man. But sleeping with him?

Ginny looked over at Draco who was looking at her like she was crazy. Ginny mouthed the word headache and Draco nodded. Then she set to writing him back.

You wish

And she passed it back to Draco, a smile playing on her lips.

Draco scribbled something while biting his lip before passing the note back to her.

More like I dream about it, but basically yes.

Ginny put her head down, shaking with laughter, and aimed a kick at Draco’s shin. If the oof was anything to go by, she had made contact. She knew she’d kicked something that time at least.

They passed notes all the rest of class, Ginny telling Draco that she had something big to tell him, and Draco just dying to know what it was.

Will you tell me now if I promise to buy you a Phoenix as a wedding gift? his note had asked.

But no, Ginny was mean and made him wait until after class ended. As Draco got up to leave, she yanked him back down into his seat, letting the rest of the class file out. Professor Binns floated through a wall.

“Huh, I guess he does know he’s dead,” Draco commented.

Ginny shrugged, but then remembered she had something to say. Something of importance.

“You remember how Luna was in the memory?” she asked.

Draco nodded.

“Well it’s strange, but she recalls the whole thing perfectly, while neither you or I do. She was saying maybe the Faeries had to do with us forgetting,” Ginny explained.

“Huh,” Draco said, thinking a moment. “It’s possible Lovegood is onto something. But even if she was, Faerie magic can’t be undone, Ginny.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “I’m not trying to undo it, you prat, I’m trying to figure out why it was done.”

Draco looked at Ginny for a long moment before saying, “Ginny, don’t you think maybe if we, I don’t know, live our lives, we will eventually figure it out? If it’s Fate it will make itself known. Trying to rush an answer isn’t going to help. Now come have lunch with me. Everyone is already calling you my girlfriend. They say I stole you from Potter.”

And Draco Malfoy looked particularly smug as he got up, offering Ginny his hand. Ginny put the note they’d written back and forth in her bag before taking Draco’s hand and letting him lead her out of the classroom. And of course the moment they hit the hall holding hands, whispers started. Ginny flushed bright red, but she resolutely kept her hand in Draco’s the entire way down to the Great Hall, wondering if her palm was sweaty the whole way there.

Draco looked so calm and collected. It was a bit unfair, really. Ginny wanted to kick him. She wanted to trip him up the way he was currently tripping her stomach up, because those butterflies were surely going to make eating a bitch. And it was all Draco Malfoy’s fault. Him and his bloody good looks. Well. Ginny was going to make sure Gryffindor beat him. Now that she was Chaser she was going to make as many points as possible. Fuck the snitch, she’d singlehandedly win the game if she had to, just to show Draco who was boss.

Ginny noticed Parkinson’s look of outrage, as though Ginny were the scum of the Earth for holding Draco’s hand. Draco, who towered above her. Draco whose grey eyes reminded her of rain clouds and thunderstorms. Draco who for some reason she was fated to be with. A reason she had yet to really understand.

And she had been sure when they told her that she would feel a keen loss over Harry; but she hadn’t. It was the strangest thing, really, but she felt as though all the secret looks and quips between the two of them—Draco and Ginny—had been leading inexorably to this point. Like he was a home she’d forgotten she missed. And it didn’t make sense, but then what about magic ever really did? There were laws to it, sure, but there were also exceptions to those very same laws.

Ginny sat down next to Draco, bag slung across her shoulder, and for the first time in life, looking at Draco, Ginny Weasley felt whole.

“Mr. Malfoy,” McGonagall began, surveying him from across the headmistress’ desk. “I know that dating Ms. Weasley puts you in… a predicament. I’ve heard talk among other students about what should be done to you. Students in your house. Of course the war divided a great many of us, sadly, instead of bringing us together.”

McGonagall sighed and looked to Professor Slughorn for help. He jumped in.

“Mr. Malfoy, we feel it prudent and preemptive to give you your own dorm. This has been done a few times in the past, when the situation warrants. Unlike the Slytherin common room, you will set the password. And… and we are giving you great latitude here given the circumstances, but Miss Weasley will be able to come and go as she pleases. As long as you give her the current password.”

McGonagall jumped back in, a stern expression on her face. “The portrait will tell me if you bring or allow anyone other than Miss Weasley in. If you do, I will send you back to the Slytherin dorm to fend for yourself. I am trusting you with this. Ms. Granger herself stepped out and vouched for you. So don’t muck it up!”

Draco was mind blown. He should have figured Granger knew. She was dating Weasel King. Still, he didn’t like it. But she had vouched for him to have his own room? Granger, the girl he had tormented, who’d been tortured in front of him had spoken up on his behalf? It didn’t make sense.

But Draco sensed this had nothing to do with him and everything to do with his future wife. What wouldn’t Granger do for her? The past few days the older girl had practically been glued to her, and in History of Magic, the one class Draco and Ginny actually talked, Ginny said Granger wanted to draw her up a study schedule for the N.E.W.T.s. But Ginny had said she preferred studying with Draco, which made his chest swell with pride.

“Yes, Professor McGonagall. Thank you very much,” he found himself saying.

And then Slughorn was showing him a portrait on the sixth floor, and when it asked for him to create a password, Draco said the first thing that came to mind.

“Ginevra.”

~~~

Of course the one time Draco actually wanted to find Ginny, he couldn’t. Any other time she was there, her presence like a calming draught, reminding him that he could get through school because he had a future to look forward to—”You’re going to be the best Unspeakable ever”—and of course there was the thought that they’d be escaping to their own little oasis. It’d be nice. He’d begun to think of her as his best friend. Maybe five year old him hadn’t been so dumb. If he had to spend the rest of his life with her, at least they got along so well. And it didn’t hurt that she was attractive.

Draco went up to the very last person he wanted to and delicately cleared his throat. Hermione Granger glanced up at him from her library book, the picture of surprise.

“I was… I’m looking for Ginny, and she isn’t here, she’s not in the Great Hall, I’ve checked the Quidditch Pitch, so I’m assuming she’s in your common room. Only I can’t get in and I need to talk to her. So if I could wait outside your common room for you to get her…”

Hermione’s mouth was agape. She was staring at Draco before she seemed to realize what she was doing, and then she promptly shut her mouth and sat up straight.

“Of course. Follow me,” she said, packing her books up.

They said nothing, walking all the way to the seventh floor in silence. It was rather awkward, truth be told. But Draco wanted to see Ginny, so he would do what he had to do.

“Give me just a minute to get her,” Hermione mumbled as she clambered into the portrait.

And it took about that long for Ginny to appear, jumping out with her hair wild as though she’d just recently woken up from a nap. She sauntered over to Draco, wearing a shirt that he was sure he’d seen on Potter before. Anger roared in his chest. Who did Potter think he was to have Draco’s future wife wearing his clothes?!

But then she smiled up at him and asked him what was going on.

“I need to show you something,” he said before grabbing her hand and almost dragging her down the stairs to the sixth floor.

“Draco, what the fuck? Where are we going?”

“My room!” he said excitedly.

“Did you hit your head? Your room is in the dungeons!” she yelled as he kept pulling her down the halls.

“Not anymore. Ginevra, the password is Ginevra.”

And the portrait swung up and Draco stepped aside to let Ginny in.

He loved it. It was light and airy. It was decked out in Slytherin (and Gryffindor) colors. It was, Draco imagined, similar to the Head Boy’s room. He had his own common room, with a desk, a shelf for books, a fireplace, and a couch. Then he had a door that led to his bedroom and bathroom. The bed wasn’t as small as the ones in Slytherin Common Room; it certainly was big.

Ginny looked around, her amber eyes round as she took in the hangings—both their houses represented—and the desk, the comfortable looking couch, the desk wide enough for both of them to fit at for studying, and she spotted the little cauldron in the corner, perfect for practicing brewing potions, as most N.E.W.T. students were expected to do.

“How the hell did you manage this?” she finally asked, turning to face him.

“I didn’t. Apparently Granger did.”

Ginny looked floored. “Hermione did this?! But… why?”

Draco shrugged. “Slytherins were talking about becoming violent towards me so the staff thought it best I be moved. And McGonagall thought you should be the only person allowed to come in. On Granger’s vouching for me.”

Ginny stood there, her hair practically crackling, her mouth open, and then she burst into laughter.

“I call the bed tonight. You can sleep on the couch,” she said smugly.

“Oi! Wifey!” Draco called after her retreating form. “We’re going to be sharing a bed anyway, might as well start now. And I don’t think that’s quite what McGonagall meant,” Draco called after her, his heart stuttering.

Draco Malfoy had never shared his bed with anyone. And he knew soon he would be sharing it with Ginny. This thought didn’t bother him. But it did make him nervous. Were they supposed to cuddle?

Ginny’s next remark was highly amusing, “You have a bigger bathtub! That’s it, I’m moving in. The bed is big enough for both of us, you’re right. I’ll be right back.”

And that was how Draco Malfoy and Ginny Weasley came to share their own room.

“So you just moved in?” Hermione asked a week later, as she and Ginny were sitting in the library.

Hermione hadn’t noticed Ginny’s disappearance, which to be fair, was not Hermione’s fault. She woke up before everyone else, and she was asleep when it was dark and one had to feel their way to the bed. She thought Ginny had been going to bed early. She didn’t realize Ginny had moved all her things to Draco’s room, and Ginny was sure it wasn’t what Hermione had anticipated when she vouched for Draco.

“It’s not like we’re trying to have sex. We don’t even cuddle in the bed. He is a perfect gentleman. We just inhabit the same space. It makes sense since we’re going to soon be occupying the same space for the rest of our lives,” Ginny whispered, the Muffliato spell in full effect, but caution used just the same.

And while Hermione really couldn’t argue with this, she still felt torn. She knew Ron would have been irate to learn that Ginny was sharing a room with his enemy. Though why Malfoy still had to be the enemy Hermione wasn’t too sure. He’d changed since the war, and while he wasn’t exactly nice, he was at the very least respectful to her.

The point was, Ginny was marrying Malfoy regardless of anything except Malfoy dying, and Hermione had already told Ron she wouldn’t marry him if he went to Azkaban for murder.

Marriage. The thought almost made Hermione smile. Not that they had told anyone besides Harry. What, with everything going on with Ginny, Ron and Hermione wanted to wait to announce their engagement. It would be a small ceremony. Only family and friends. Hermione had already drafted a guest list and owled it to Ron and Harry—their best man—at Grimmauld Place. Hermione was hoping Ginny would be her Maid of Honor. She knew she might not be Ginny’s, but as Ron had always said, Ginny was too popular for her own good.

But no, Hermione wasn’t going to judge Ginny even if she were going to have sex with Malfoy. One day she probably would be shagging him. Ginny had made it clear that she wanted one—just one—baby after her Quidditch playing days were over. Even before Malfoy, back when her and Harry had been a thing, she had told him one baby, so he better make it a good one. Now they wouldn’t be seeing a raven-haired baby popping out of Ginny. It would most likely be a redhead. Or a strawberry blond, depending on the genetic makeup of past generations of Malfoys.

Hermione herself hoped for a curly haired ginger of her own one day. She had fallen in love with the red hair that made the Weasleys so well known. And for the love that permeated their household. Even now, going to the Burrow was a treat. To be engulfed in Molly Weasley’s arms and have her send random care packages to Hogwarts (”Because I know you overwork yourself, dear”) was a welcomed surprise. Hermione was glad that whatever children she had would grow up in a family so filled with love and kindness.

And honestly, Hermione wondered if Ginny and Malfoy—no, Draco, she needed to call him Draco—might not have the same thing with time. Faerie magic was mysterious, and not very well understood, but if it were Fate, wouldn’t that suggest they were soul mates? Of course when Hermione had pointed this out to Ron he had blown a gasket, but he could be very irrational at times, especially when it came to his little sister. He wanted to be the older protective brother, but Ginny was capable of taking care of herself. She had been since she woke up on the Chamber floor and realized Voldemort himself had tricked her.

“Hermione?” Ginny asked, shocking the older woman out of her thoughts (because really none of them were kids anymore).

“Sorry, I was thinking about Ron,” Hermione half confessed. Half truths seemed to be her new thing. She wasn’t exactly lying, but not telling Ginny that she was going to be marrying her brother seemed a lot like lying to Hermione.

Ginny gave a small understanding smile that made Hermione feel even guiltier.

“You miss him?” Ginny asked.

Hermione gave a sad smile as she answered. “I do. But we spent months on end together. A break was needed for our relationship. We saw each other at our very worst. And we’re both still here, so that says something I hope.”

Ginny reached over and grasped Hermione’s arm, giving it a light squeeze.

“Hermione, if anyone can make it work, it’s the two of you. It won’t be easy at all. I’m sure half the time you’ll want to strangle my dear brother just like I do. But he loves you more than he loves anything. He confessed to Harry multiple times that if it weren’t for you they’d have never stood a chance against You-Know-Who. You are his better half. You two got this.”

And if that caused Hermione to smile as bright as the sun, well, who could really blame her?

She only hoped one day she was telling Ginny the same thing about Draco.

~~~

Ginny Weasley was stunning. That was the only thought going through Draco’s head as he watched her bent over a textboo, underlining things in it. She was busy and oblivious to his attention, her hair wild and crackling like a halo about her head. It caught the light and shone golden and copper. It was as vibrant as she was.

Draco had gotten used to her constant presence. Her witty retorts. Her inability to wake up without groaning like getting out of bed was a chore—and he had to practically drag her down to the Great Hall every morning. He had gotten used to the way she curled her feet underneath her. And how she would come in from Quidditch practice and commander the bathroom for all of twenty minutes, hair even wilder coming out then when she went it.

And tomorrow was their match against each other. Draco watched her, wondering if she was at all anxious about the game. But for all the world, Ginny seemed completely unfazed. She was busy with History of Magic, a subject most dropped as soon as they possibly could. But not Ginny. She was usually raptly focused during the class. Professor Binns didn’t put her to sleep. In fact it was rumored that Ginny had asked him just how much his ghost self had seen. Of course it was only a rumor, but he could see her doing it. She was ballsy.

Ginny Weasley—soon to be Ginny Malfoy—was an unusual creature, and she didn’t seem to mind spending her time with Draco. In fact, she seemed to enjoy his company, where very few these days did. She wasn’t put off by him.

As the wireless played Celestina Warbeck, Ginny used her wand to cut to another station. Apparently growing up on it made one want to hear angrier music. She actually had a very eclectic music taste, and Draco was just overall fascinated by his future wife. He wasn’t sure how she felt about him, but he was very sure that if he had to live with her for the rest of forever, he wasn’t going to regret it.

But love? Could he? He knew she was capable of it. Ginny oozed love and kickass-ness in equal measures. But everyone outside of his family seemed to believe Draco Malfoy was incapable of feeling anything for anyone. But that couldn’t be true because just yesterday he’d hexed Blaise for calling Granger a Mudblood, and that had been for Ginny of course. And maybe just a little to show his gratitude for Granger getting him this awesome room. But mostly for Ginny’s approval.

And he had gotten it. She’d thrown herself back into her seat in Potions class and laughed heartily, telling Slughorn with a smile that she didn’t know how Zabini came to be throwing up slugs, but maybe if he was going to talk trash he deserved to have it come out of his mouth anyway. And Draco had watched her face and hair glow like the setting sun, and he knew it had been worth it. He would never see these idiots again. He might run into them from time to time, but for the most part, he would be in his own world after school. So why did it matter what they thought?

It didn’t. Ginny had pointed that out on multiple occasions. Every time she propped her feet up on his lap in class and he raised an eyebrow at her. Every time he held her hand. Every time she kissed him on the cheek. She reminded him that it would be their families they had to worry about. But even then, Draco didn’t think there would be an issue. Apparently the Weasley and Malfoy Matriarchs had found common ground—love of their children. And Narcissa Malfoy did risk her life for Harry’s, and Ginny said that according to her Mu, Harry was as good as her kid, so in her mother’s mind, Narcissa Malfoy saved her son’s life.

He wasn’t sure what the two ladies owled about, but Ginny knew they owled regularly and popped ‘round to visit one another. They were working together to fix up the house that Draco and Ginny would be moving in to; they wanted it to have a touch of familial feel. He was sure things weren’t perfect. His mother wasn’t too keen on him marrying Ginny, had been overheard telling his father that she wondered why the Faeries had to choose her son for this, but really, he had been consoling her in letters as of late, and that seemed to be making a difference.

His father was another matter. He didn’t have much to say at all. Draco had no idea how his father felt about this. But according to his mum, he was polite to the Weasleys. And that was not an easy thing for his father if he didn’t respect someone. So maybe the war had changed them all for the better. His father was certainly more open to saying he loved Draco, and that had been a huge shock for both him and his mother. Not that Draco didn’t know it, because he did. But it was an unspoken truth. Now it was out in the open. His father doted on him now. He told him consistently that he was proud of him. He showed affection he’d never shown before.

Truth was, the war had changed all three of them in ways they had never expected, and Ginny Weasley was changing him in ways he’d never anticipated. Even Blaise had sneered as he tried to trip him later and called him a defender of Mudbloods. And maybe he was, but if it made Ginny happy, if it made her world a brighter place, wasn’t it kind of worth it? For once he had something worth fighting for.

“Take your girlfriend down, Malfoy, or die trying,” Zabini had sneered.

“She’s a Chaser, and I’m a Seeker. What the bloody hell am I supposed to do?” Draco had cried.

But of course no one had any answers. They never did.

Ginny wasn’t by his side this morning because she was busy prepping for the Quidditch match with the rest of her team. Draco knew because he’d dragged her out of bed, and she’d told him she would be sitting with the team this morning instead of at her usual spot next to him at the Slytherin table.

Granger was busy braiding Ginny’s hair into French plaits to try and tame it. Everyone always talked about how wild Granger’s hair was, but Ginny’s hair seemed to be it’s own living thing. It hummed at times, and sometimes Draco would lie awake watching Ginny sleep, softly brushing her hair, running his fingers through the curly red strands softly with wonder. Not that he would ever admit to that to anyone else.

But today was the match, and Ginny’s hair was not cooperating with Granger, but Ginny was oblivious as she gave Draco a thumbs up and mouthed the words good luck to him. Funny, coming out of their common room she’d told him she was going to single handedly kick his ass. Coffee must have made her nicer. That or she couldn’t keep up a combative spirit to save her life.

Draco spent breakfast being ignored for the most part, and munching on toast. With Potter gone, and McLaggen as Seeker, Draco felt he stood a good chance of winning against the Gryffindor team. Really, McLaggen? Why had he even come back? Send him away. He had a thing for Granger, and she was dodging him at almost every turn.

“Oi! Malfoy!” Zabini yelled, ushering to him that they—the team—were making their leave. Draco drained his coffee and followed suit. Today’s match was sure to be interesting.

~~~

“So it’s not weird to be playing against him?” Hermione asked as she pulled Ginny’s hair and pulled it hard. But the redhead was used to Hermione’s heavy handed treatment of her hair. In fact, everyone who did her hair seemed to have difficulty with it.

“Not really. He’s a Seeker. I’m playing Chaser. I mean I’m singlehandedly going to win the game, as I told him, because I know McLaggen stands no chance against Draco, but it’s not weird or anything. Friendly competition,” Ginny said, shoving a piece of toast in her mouth.

She glanced over at Draco and gave him the thumbs up and mouthed good luck. She had been a bit rude this morning, but she was competitive. She was good at Quidditch, and she wanted to win because she wanted to prove she could. Or die trying to score so many points it blew Gwenog Jones’ mind, as she would be there today. For once, Ginny was glad she turned down the Seeker position. She wasn’t sure how she’d feel going head to head with Draco. He was too good, second only to Harry, who was damn good. No, this was Katie Bell’s headache as Quidditch Captain. And she looked nauseated as she sat there, not eating or drinking anything. But her team was going against the best Seeker in the school, after the most legendary Seeker for their team had just left to pursue his Auror ambitions. Wasn’t that enough to make anyone nervous?

“How’s Harry?” Ginny asked conversationally.

Hermione sighed. “Heart-broken, but he will live. He’s thrown himself into work. And Ron is there for him, so I’m sure he is going to be fine. How are you? I know this can’t be easy for you.”

Ginny tilted her head and had Hermione immediately correct her.

“It’s really not that hard. I can see why Draco and I were best friends. That is still all there. I could talk to him for hours. He just gets it, in a way Harry doesn’t. Harry went through the war, but he isn’t scarred by it, so he doesn’t understand people who are. I am, and so is Draco. It changed us. Harry just became an even better, more selfless person. Draco and I got mad at the world. So he can let me vent without judging me. And Hermione, I know you’re going to say Harry doesn’t judge me, but I feel like he should. It’s just… weird. But with Draco it’s normal.”

Hermione was quiet a moment as she finished Ginny’s hair, and Ginny ate a donut, needing strength for her match, so she told herself.

“That’s really all that matters then, Ginny. It’s how you feel about him. At the end of the day, it’s you and him. Not your brothers or parents and him. Remember that. Family is just a bonus,” Hermione advised.

Katie ran up to Ginny, broomstick in hand. Ginny had Harry’s old Firebolt—perks of being the Chosen One meant every time a new broom came out he got one for free—and was ready when Katie told her it was time.

They made their way to the locker room, McLaggen smirking the whole way.

“Weasley, hope you won’t be too mad when I wipe the field with your boyfriend,” he joked and Ginny wondered if she could get away with hexing him.

“Not if he takes you down first,” she said sweetly instead.

“Not likely,” McLaggen huffed, and turned away from Ginny as though she, the girl who was being scouted by a professional Quidditch team, didn’t know a thing about the sport.

Thank the Gods Hermione had decided to date her brother and not this hulking idiot. Ginny wasn’t sure she would have been able to handle McLaggen as part of the package deal. He was also the sole reason she had passed on being captain. Not that she didn’t want it, she did. But him? She would have killed him by now. She just wanted to play Quidditch. She didn’t care about tactics. Let the captains figure that out. She would do what she was yelled at to do, and play until her hands were bloody if need be.

She shrugged her Quidditch robes on, and grabbed her hand me down broom—like everything else in her life was—and headed for the line at the front of the locker room.

And really, the adrenaline kicked in the moment they went onto the field. Everyone screaming. Most of the school for them, but there was Luna, half her face red, the other half green, in the commentator’s box.

“Today we have Gryffindor versus Slytherin, which should be interesting because Draco and Ginny are a thing now. A very serious thing, inside sources named Ginny tell me,” Luna said.

And Ginny caught Draco’s eye, and they were both laughing, so no, this wasn’t weird. In fact, as the captains shook hands, Ginny had the distinct feeling that this was going to be the funnest match yet.

“McLaggen and Draco circling for the Snitch, in case it pops up ten seconds into the game like it did one time for Harry Potter. Anyone else remember that?” Luna asked.

Meanwhile Ginny was scoring goal after goal. Blaise, who played Keeper, was looking at her as though he wanted to strangle her, but Ginny was good. Soon the Slytherin team were aiming all Bludgers directly at Ginny, and she was dodging and spiraling and twisting through the air, playing her best yet. She felt jubilant and high on the game. The crowd was cheering her on. Every time she scored they got louder. It was insane in the best way possible.

And when Draco caught the snitch, Ginny couldn’t even feign being angry at him. He had beat McLaggen there by a good five seconds, which was a lot in Quidditch. And the ringing in Ginny’s ears was loud, the rush of blood was screaming, demanding she listen as landed, marched up to Draco bloody Malfoy, grabbed the front of his Quidditch robes, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed him like she wasn’t sure she was ever going to get another chance to kiss him again.

And if he responded by dropping his broom and scooping her up, one hand immediately tangling itself in the loose hair that was available, a groan escaping from his mouth into hers? Well that was even better. The whole school watching be damned.

Ginny almost missed Luna saying, “Well, I did say it was pretty serious. I’m thinking a June wedding, but I could be wrong.”

Somehow Ginny and Draco’s Common Room area thingy—as Ginny called it—had a window. A big spacious one that let in lots of natural light which Draco assured Ginny was a very good thing. Of course it wasn’t like there were a lot of options besides windows and candles. And since Hogwarts had a budget, there were many windows and few candles.

This morning, being Sunday, the day after Ginny had kissed Draco, she was awake trying to study as Draco slept in for once. And then came the rapping of the owl on the window. And it was Pigwidgeon. So, Ron had most likely heard about the kiss and was putting his two cents in. Well, as Ginny got up, a response already forming in her head, she wasn’t prepared for it to be Harry’s handwriting on the envelope. She felt like ice water had been dumped over her, and she sat down on the couch and slowly opened the letter and began to read.

Ginny,

I’m sure you’ve realized by now that I heard about your kissing adventure with Malfoy. To say I’m hurt is to put it mildly, but I’ve realized how unfair to you that is. Let me restart this.

Ginny, I’ve spent months of you being in school trying to figure out some loophole to get you out of this situation. I thought being the Boy-Who-Lived might have some sway with the Faeries. I met with them everyday for a week before they told me that in this case they could not be swayed to let the magic undo itself. I have tried to think of ways Malfoy could reword another vow to negate the previous vow, but while I have ideas, that’s all they are. Nothing concrete. Nothing I’m willing to risk your life on.

I was crushed. I always imagined, when I dared to imagine, that we would live together in Grimmauld Place. We’d have a family of our own one day, and your parents would be thrilled to officially call me their son. It’d be like those Muggle fairy tales I never listened to. It’d be everything I never thought I could have.

So when Hermione warned me awhile back that you and Malfoy were trying to actually make this work, I ignored her. Who was he compared to me? I’m the bloody hero, and doesn’t the hero always get the girl? But I guess this time the hero doesn’t. And it’s no one’s fault. Unless you want to blame the Faeries, which part of me still does. But I can’t blame you. And Malfoy was five. He was a baby himself. How can I really be mad at him? I just can’t.

But you two are actually trying to make this work. And I get why. Why not? You have to spend the rest of your life with him. It’ll be easier if you have feelings for him. Apparently you do. You once were so bold to run up to me and kiss me. Now it’s him you’re kissing, and I’m going to have to learn to be okay with that. And I will, for your sake, because I still want you in my life even if it’s just as a friend. I can’t imagine not having you around. It just hurts too much to imagine.

I’m sorry, for what we could have had and never will. I’m sorry for the happiness and love we could have enjoyed for the rest of our lives. But I support you in this. I support you trying to fall in love with him. I support you if you already are. And I am here if you need to or want to talk. I will always be here for you, as your best ear and hopefully down the line as your best friend.

-Harry

Ginny let a single tear drop down her face before she threw the letter into the fireplace before Draco could read it, and she went back to bed.

~~~

“Did you answer him?” Hermione asked later that day in a hushed voice, sitting in the library with Ginny.

Ginny shook her head. “I wouldn’t know what to say. I don’t even know why I did it. I just… I wanted to kiss Draco, Hermione. So I did. How am I supposed to explain that to a man in love with me? I love Harry, but I’m nowhere near being torn up about this. I’m torn up that I’m hurting him because that’s not my intention. But I am not like ‘Oh, I wish I could be with Harry instead.’ It’s a bit sad. But…”

“Don’t stop living your life because you’re worried how Harry will feel,” Hermione said, which rather surprised Ginny. “He will get over it. He goes to other countries, he is bound to meet some woman he likes. He just isn’t ready yet. And that is okay, But it’s also okay that you are. So don’t feel bad for having feelings for Draco. He’s really not that bad. I’m not sure whether it’s you or he’s always been this decent and hiding it, but he’s changed quite a bit. And he looks at you like you’re the Sun and he wouldn’t mind getting burned if he could just touch you.”

Ginny blushed furiously. Did Draco really look at her like that? She hadn’t noticed. Ginny felt like she had spent much of these days with her head in a book, or on the Quidditch pitch practicing with the team (McLaggen was still bitter about losing to Draco). Often she and Draco sat on opposite sides of the table in their common room, working on homework, helping each other where it was needed. So was it really that surprising that Ginny hadn’t noticed anything?

Luna Lovegood plunked down next to Hermione, a dreamy expression on her face.

“Have you and Draco scheduled the wedding yet?” Luna asked.

Ginny shook her head.

“June weddings are lovely,” Luna happily said.

“You said that at the match, too,” Ginny pointed out.

“Because it’s true,” Luna said in her defense, not that she needed one. “Besides, the Faeries in my dream told me you two would get married in June.”

Ginny’s head snapped up so quick she was lucky she didn’t get whiplash.

“The who? Said what?” Ginny asked.

“The Faeries in my dream. They said you both would be married June sixteenth,” Luna informed her.

“Have the Faeries said anything else in your dreams?” Ginny asked, not sure she really wanted the answer to that question.

“No, just that. Oh and that you two were the most important couple in history for some reason, although they wouldn’t say why,” Luna said, tilting her head as though thinking.

Ginny and Hermione shared a stunned look, but that was all Luna had to say, apparently.

“Hermione, red, red, red!” Ginny hissed, seeing McLaggen looking around the library for Hermione.

“Shit,” Hermione cussed, hiding under the table because there was nowhere else for her to run to. Being at the back of the library did that to a person.

McLaggen saw Ginny and made a beeline for her.

“Granger not here?” he asked.

Luna and Ginny shook their heads no.

“Well do you know where she might be? Sluggy is having a party and I wanted her to go with me,” he muttered.

“You do know she is dating my brother, right?” Ginny asked.

McLaggen shrugged. “Not much he can do about me being here and him not,” McLaggen said cheekily.

Ginny glared. “I’m warning you. Cursing a broom really is easy,” she threatened.

“Calm down, ginger,” McLaggen said before walking off, muttering about overly emotional women.

Hermione poked her head up after a few moments, and Ginny assured her that it was now a McLaggen free zone. Poor Hermione. She’d been dodging the stupid prat at every turn, and he just wouldn’t give up. Ginny swore he had all the sense of a troll, with height to match. And the smell when we was done with Quidditch practice.

“So,” Hermione began as she pulled books out of her bag. “We need to talk study schedule. I’m doing a lot of it, but I want to make sure you two are on top of it.”

“Luna’s in bloody Ravenclaw. Of course she studies. I study daily with Draco, as we take most of the same classes. It’s nice to have a completely silent room to work in, so thanks for that ‘Mione,” Ginny said.

Hermione looked pleased. “Good! Have you done…”

And the three women went back to homework for their various classes, and didn’t stop until the lunch bell rang.

The next few days saw Ginny and Draco increasingly busy with homework. Halloween was fast approaching, which meant the Holidays would be here, and they both needed to figure out how they were going to work that out. Would they go with each other to the Burrow and then the Manor? Or would they do the holidays separately? It seemed silly to not celebrate together, but Ginny wondered if she was being presumptuous.

Another Hogsmeade weekend had come and gone, with Ginny and Draco obviously going together once again. They’d wandered around the village, enjoying their butterbeers while they talked about what they were going to do once Hogwarts was over.

“I feel like you could do more than just be an amazing Unspeakable,” Ginny found herself saying as they looked out at the Shrieking Shack.

“Well that’s because I am multi-talented, Ginevra. I can do well at many things all at the same time,” Draco quipped and Ginny rolled her eyes.

“Always such a prat?” Ginny asked.

“Would you like me if I wasn’t?” Draco responded.

Ginny shrugged.

“I’m a one hundred percent, grade A Malfoy. I am one of a kind,” Malfoy smirked.

Ginny rolled her eyes fondly. “I’m one hundred percent done with you,” Ginny muttered.

“Sorry, stuck with me for lifeeee,” he sang.

“Ugh, Draco, please don’t sing; you’ll give me a blinding headache,” Ginny pleaded.

Draco rolled his eyes, but he did indeed stop, and Ginny was aware that Draco was staring at her and not the Shrieking Shack.

“What?” Ginny asked. “Do I have something on my face?”

Draco chuckled and said, “Nothing.”

“Ooooh, we should go to Madame Puddifoot’s! It’s the perfect couples spot. Since we will be married soon…”

Draco observed Ginny for a moment before he asked, “Does it bother you that we have to get married?”

Ginny shook her head and said, “No, not for a while now. You’re my best friend, Draco. And we have something. Being married at all is kind of a scary thought, but not being married to you.”

Draco nodded and took her hand, rubbing circles into the back of it.

“On to Madame Puddifoot’s, then. She better have the best tea,” he announced, and dragged Ginny away from the Shrieking Shack.

The afternoon was fun. They threw marshmallows into each other’s mouth, and enjoyed a cup of tea, before going to visit George at the newest branch of Weasley Wizard Wheezes, George vigorously shook Draco’s hand, giving him the grand tour and explaining the newest items to come out to him.

“How did you manage to start all this?” Draco asked incredulously.

George grinned. “Well, after Harry won the Triwizard tournament, he… he called it blood money. He didn’t want it, and he had a feeling this business would be needed, so he forced the money on Fred and I, and walked away. We didn’t want to take it, but he threatened to dump it down a toilet.”

Draco nodded, sure that was something Potter would do. Draco obviously had a lot to live up to.

“Well, if the business continues on, I may have to become an investor. You are brilliant at this, George,” Draco said, picking up a daydream charm thing that guaranteed a full forty minutes of a hyper realistic daydream perfect to fit into any class.

George thanked him, and they continued on back to the school, Draco with a paid for daydream in his pocket. He wanted to see what it could do. Not that he would use it during class, but before bed one night…

“Hey, Draco, hey, Ginny,” Luna said dreamily as she passed them. They greeted her back and made their way to their common room.

“Tomorrow is the feast!” Ginny exclaimed, referring to the Halloween feast.

“Yes, and Muggles everywhere will be going door to door to get candy. Strange tradition if you ask me,” Draco said.

“Well I didn’t,” she cheeked.

Draco rolled his eyes, heading to the bathroom and leaving Ginny seated at the table.

Ginny was beautiful. Draco decided it didn’t hurt to think this thought. She would be his for life, and he would be hers. So why deny the simple truth that muscular, athletic Ginny Weasley was beautiful and had hair that glowed copper while it crackled around her head? She was gorgeous and funny and kept Draco entertained thoroughly.

He walked back out to see Ginny starting on her Potion’s Essay, quill scratching across the paper.

“Why spend so much time on homework when you know you’ll be recruited by the Harpies?” Draco asked. “Surely it isn’t that big of a deal that your mum get to boast about you.”

Ginny shrugged as she replied. “Eventually I’ll have to quit Quidditch. It’s not a lifelong career. And when that day comes, I want to be as prepared as possible. Having a well rounded education is never a bad thing.”

And Draco had to admit that she made a point.

“You amaze me,” he said softly, not even meaning for it to slip out, but it did.

Ginny smiled and continued her homework, but the air felt lighter and sweeter. Ginny Weasley—soon to be Ginny Malfoy—was amazing. And soon the whole world would see why.

~~~

“Now, what is Veritaserum?” Slughorn asked the class. Ginny’s hand flew into the air alongside Hermione’s hand. But Ginny really hoped she was called on because for once she was more than confident she knew the answer.

“Ms. Weasley?” Slughorn asked, much to Hermione’s obvious disappointment.

“It’s a truth serum. While under the effects, a person cannot lie. However, they can avoid answering the question, and that is one of the drawbacks of the potion,” Ginny recited, remembering going over this with Draco.

“Ten points for Gryffindor! Ms. Weasley here is spot on. Also, this potion does indeed call into question some morality issues. But this is a very difficult potion to brew, and disastrous should you get it wrong. Now if you’ll all open up to page 103, you’ll see the steps on making this. I want all of you to get started. If you use your time wisely, it’ll be at the week waiting stage by the end of the class, and you’ll just have to give it some time to really marinate.”

There was a great amount of page turning as everyone went to page 103 to look up how to make the potion. Ginny glanced at Draco across the room, who was already setting up his station. Ginny hurried to do the same. The potion itself was tricky. Needing thirteen left stirs, three right stirs, and eleven left stirs. It would be easy to lose count, but Ginny wasn’t one to give up.

She worked on the potion, ignoring Hermione whose potion already seemed to be at the marinating stage. When the bell rang, Ginny was pleased to say that her potion looked exactly as the book said it should. She packed her things, gave her cauldron one last look, and exited the room, waiting for Draco to file out.

“How’d you do?” he asked immediately.

“I think I did good. You?” Ginny asked.

“Same. It’s a bloody difficult potion, but it’d be interesting to try on someone,” Draco said.

“I don’t know,” Ginny responded. “Imagine someone doing it to you without permission, dragging all your secrets out of you. It seems invasive.”

Draco walked with her to their room, thinking before he said, “It could be fun to use on each other. Be safe that way.”

Ginny shrugged, not really giving it much thought before she said, “Let’s get ready for the feast!”

And of course the feast was amazing. Ginny sat with Draco, as per usual, and they talked quietly, enjoying all the dishes that were served. It seemed to never stop. The pumpkin juice was chilled just right, off setting the hot food, and all the candy that was piled onto the tables.

“You’re giving the food heart eyes,” Ginny informed Draco.

“Yeah, because it’s bloody delicious!” he retorted, and Ginny had to agree.

Even Professor McGonagall seemed to be enjoying herself thoroughly, talking happily with Madame Sprout. Neville would, in two years time, be taking over the role of Herbology professor, as he was so good at it, and Professor Sprout said she needed retirement. Ginny was ecstatic for Neville, and made a mental note to write him soon.

“Okay, but,” Draco began after he swallowed a mouthful of turkey, “What if we really gave the Veritaserum to each other?”

Ginny just stared for a long moment.

“Oh, come on. We could ask each other anything. We’d learn how the potion feels, the better to avoid it, and we’d have like a truth or dare. It could be fun,” Draco said.

“Or it could go horribly wrong and we could hate each other forever,” Ginny added.

“Is there really something that bad that you wouldn’t want me to know?” Draco asked, and Ginny sat there thinking about it.

Was there? Hadn’t they both been forthcoming with one another? Ginny couldn’t think of anything bad to say about Draco. She might have in the past, but those days were gone, and Ginny knew that she’d say nothing but good things about Draco.

“Alright,” Ginny said finally. “We’ll do it. How are we going to do it?”

“I thought we’d brew our own in our common room. That way no one sees us nicking it, and no one finds it,” Draco told her.

Ginny nodded. “You’re crazy, but let’s do it.”

And after the feast, they both went to their common room, ladden down with sweets, and a plot in mind. It was like Dumbledore’s Army all over again, except this time they weren’t fighting Death Eaters, they were finding out more about each other. And Ginny hoped it didn’t go horribly wrong.

Over the next week, Draco and Ginny worked on the potion. It wasn’t too hard, now that they knew how to do it. And Ginny reminded herself that if Hermione could brew Polyjuice in her second year, a seventh year Draco—and herself—could definitely do Veritaserum. The annoying part was waiting a week for it to be done.

So they went to classes and stayed up studying together. Finals were ages away, but Draco, much like Hermione, felt he needed to be as prepared as possible for the exams at the end of the year. Ginny wanted to do her best too, so it was often that Draco and Ginny quizzed each other. Ginny became much more proficient at antidotes under Draco’s tutelage, and Draco had become a top hat at Charms, which had always been his worst subject.

As the week wore on, Ginny found herself almost eagerly anticipating when the potion would be done. She had made a list of questions to ask Draco, and she was almost giddy to get her answer to the things—however superficial—that she wanted to know. Ginny didn’t know that Draco had done the same thing one day in Transfiguration class.

And so the week went by, and they added the last ingredients, stirring it as instructed and taking it off the heat at precisely the right moment. The potion was colorless and odorless, just as their textbook said it should be. Draco took an eyedropper, filled it up, and squeezed a few drops onto his tongue. He then handed it to Ginny who did the same. They sat there a couple of moments just staring at each other, neither wanting to be the first to ask one of their questions. Ginny did feel slightly light-headed, as the book said the drinker should feel. So she supposed it had worked.

“Do you think it worked?” Draco asked warily.

“Yes,” Ginny replied without hesitation, surprising herself because she hadn’t realized she was going to answer.

“What are you thinking?” Draco asked.

“That if someone had slipped this to Voldemort it would have been a lot easier to end the war. We’d all have known about the soul thingys,” Ginny scoffed just imagining it.

Ginny contemplated her question before she said, “What are you thinking?”

“That you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met,” slid off Draco’s tongue, and of course it had to be true. Draco couldn’t lie right now. Ginny felt her face flush.

Me? Beautiful? She thought. She’d always been either scrawny or muscular. She was short, no curves to speak of, and some wild ass hair. And he thought she was beautiful? Ginny’s cheeks flamed, and for a moment she had nothing to say. She cast about wildly for a question, any question. But Draco asked a question first.

“Which do you think came first, the phoenix or the flame?” he asked with a smirk.

Ginny had to laugh.

“I don’t know and honestly I do not care. All that matters is that they are here. It’s all philosophical bullshit that only the Ravenclaws give a damn about,” Ginny answered.

“Why didn’t you identify Harry when he was helped captive at your manor?” Ginny asked quite suddenly, surprising even herself.

Draco sighed. “The Dark Lord was a madman. I didn’t want to see him win. His views were… terrible. I thought, for a long time, that he was right. That my father’s hatred of muggleborns and blood traitors was accurate. But killing for fun? Torturing for fun? He was out of control, and I just wanted it to be over at that point. I knew Potter could do that, and I knew if I pretended I wasn’t sure it was him there would be no harm done. Of course, I was wrong. He tortured my family and I for not notifying him immediately. He was a crazed lunatic who was tearing my family apart. I wanted him gone.”

Ginny nodded silently. She could relate.

“What was it like, being in the Chamber your second year?” Draco asked cautiously.

Ginny pursed her lips, thinking, before she said, “Scary. At that point, I knew he’d made me do it. I felt betrayed. I trusted him. I thought he was beautiful and smart and just so kind. Then he was standing over me telling me Lord… Voldemort,” she choked on the name, “was grateful for my service, but I had to die. And it’s a kind of fear I can’t explain. It wasn’t even so much dying, it was fear of what would happen to my family’s reputation. What would happen to Harry if he actually came after me? Would Ron be alright, because of course, the git would follow Harry, even then, to the ends of the Earth? I wasn’t so scared to die because if a memory could be preserved in a diary, and there are ghosts, then we know there’s some afterlife. I just didn’t want anyone killed because I trusted a handsome, kind boy who wrote to me.”

“He was handsome?” Draco asked incredulously.

“He was handsome to the point where he was a beautiful enigma. It’s easy to see how he whipped himself up followers back in the day. Praise from him would be amazing. But it was easier to see the monster in him when he let himself become less than human. It was easier to rebel against him them. He wasn’t the boy I thought was my friend, and I doubted he had any idea about what happened with me.” Ginny shrugged.

“Do you think I’m handsome?” Draco asked through squinted eyes.

Ginny giggled. “I do, but isn’t it my turn to ask a question?”

Draco nodded, and they could both feel the effects of the potion starting to wear off.

“Do you think you’ll ever love me?” Ginny asked, using the last few seconds for the question she really wanted an answer to.

“I already do,” Draco answered, whether because of the potion or just because he felt he could be honest with her at this point she wasn’t sure, and she wasn’t going to question it.

Draco clapped his hands together. “That was fun. At least now we know how to make it successfully. I bet you anything it shows up on our N.E.W.Ts.”

Ginny nodded. “Quite right. I need to do my Potion’s homework for Slughorn anyway. At least he isn’t as demanding as Snape.”

Draco nodded. “Though Snape was always fairer in Potions to us Slytherins.”

“Oh gosh,” Ginny groaned, “You know he loathes Hermione now for saving his life? He won’t talk about it, and neither will she. But apparently, he doesn’t like being in a student’s debt. Not that I can really blame him, but Hermione is the least likely to try and guilt-trip or blackmail him.”

“Granger is above such petty things. Lately, I seem to think I am too,” Draco said, fishing out his parchment, History of Magic book, and a quill with ink.

Ginny followed suite, getting her Potions’ items out to start the essay. Draco had already done his during her Quidditch practice. It was ironic. They had the perfect opportunity to cheat off each other, and yet they didn’t want to. They asked each other for help, but they wanted their work to be done off their own knowledge. They wanted to earn their grade.

Ginny fell into subspace. She loved the sound of a quill scratching on parchment. It eased her in a way very few things could. Even with her tumultuous history with the diary, there was something soothing about the sound of a quill scratching on parchment.

Thankfully, the essay was on Veritaserum. Now having personal experience in brewing it and taking it, Ginny felt more prepared for her homework. It had been a good idea, she thought. Then she bit the inside of her cheek as she recalled how Draco had said he already loved her. She doubted he was yet in love with her. That would come with more time. But she loved him too. He had become a steady presence in her life. She found she looked forward to classes and evenings with him. She was sure he felt the same now. It was nice.

Ginny finished her homework and reread over her essay, tapping her and there to correct words she had misspelled. Finally, she tapped the parchment to dry the ink, and then rolled it up and tied it with a piece of string the way Hermione had taught her.

Hermione. Ginny gave a soft, fond smile. She knew the other woman was keeping a secret from her. She also had a feeling she knew exactly what it was. But she was going to let Hermione come to her when the time was right. For now, she would continue throwing herself into Quidditch and studies. That was what mattered at this point.

That and building her relationship with her future husband. She glanced at him, tongue sticking out as he wrote his own essay. She couldn’t help but think that maybe this would all turn out all right.

The rest of the weekend passed quickly. Draco and Ginny did homework Sunday afternoon by the lake, chatting about anything and everything. It was peaceful.

“Can we have a pond in our back yard?” Ginny asked, eying the lake and enjoying the gentle sounds. It was another relaxing sound.

“Of course. You can have anything you want,” Draco declared, loosening his tie.

He was sprawled out under a tree, cloak removed, the top button of his shirt undone so Ginny could just barely see the tiny bit of blonde chest hair peeking out. Ginny had never found chest hair attractive before, but it looked damn good on him. And he always smelled so good. Ginny would wake in the night to find herself sprawled all over him, inhaling his scent deeply.

“What if I want a kiss?” Ginny teased.

“Then you get one,” Draco said, before sitting back up and gently kissing her.

He always tasted so good, Ginny thought, deepening the kiss. They had already agreed, no sex until after school. It wouldn’t do for Ginny to get pregnant. Contraceptive potions were only ninety-nine percent effective after all. Though, of course, she was banking on that to keep her baby-free during her Quidditch career. It just felt too much like a risk right now.

Ginny sighed gently as they parted, smelling Draco’s scent mixed with the lake. It was comforting to her. Everything felt right in her life. She was doing well at her studies, Gwenog was very impressed with her, and her mother was sending her—and Draco—scarves for the upcoming temperature drop.

“When is the next Hogsmeade visit?” Ginny found herself asking, stretching out her legs.

“Beginning of December, I believe. What do you want to get?” he asked her.

“Christmas gifts for my family. I’ve been debating making George a photo album with nothing but pictures of him and Fred. I’m just not sure how he would react to it. I don’t want to upset him, you know?” Ginny asked, and Draco nodded.

“I think it would upset him no matter what,” Draco said, “But maybe in a good way. It might be helpful, too. Where are you going to get the pictures from?”

“I’ve already asked for a couple of baby pictures from my mum, and Colin has some pictures. I’ve reached out to Wood and a few others about pictures they might have. I just… it’s been hard on George. He tries to do the best he can, but in the end, he lost his other half. To be honest, we thought we were going to lose him. Mum was scared he was going to commit suicide. But he says Fred wouldn’t have wanted that, and he isn’t going to disgrace his brother’s memory,” Ginny explained.

“That is noble, though I should expect as much from a Gryffindor,” Draco teased, and Ginny rolled her eyes.

“So, how are we doing the holidays?” Ginny asked.

Draco shrugged. “I thought maybe we could do Christmas Eve at my parent’s house, since they always do something special that night, and then Christmas with your family. And Lovegood invited the Golden Trio and us over for the day after Christmas, and I know how close you are with her, so I figured we could do that.”

Ginny sat there a moment, staring at Draco. He knew the little things about her, and it always stunned the hell out of her. Of course she would love to go with the trio to visit Luna for the holidays. It would be awkward because of Harry, but Ginny was sure they’d work around that. Harry had taken to owling her once a week. Draco didn’t seem to mind. He was less insecure with his place in Ginny’s heart since they had done the veritaserum.

“That sounds good. I just don’t know what to get your parents for Christmas, so you’ll have to help me,” Ginny finally said.

“Don’t I always?” Draco drawled, hair falling into his eyes.

Ginny couldn’t help but kiss him again.

~~~

“So,” George said, as the couple was in his shop, “How do you feel about facing all the Weasleys?” he asked Draco.

“Bloody terrified, but I’ll deny it to the end,” he admitted, his Weasley scarf wrapped snug around his neck.

“You are a braver man than I by far. It really shouldn’t be too awful, though. I am sure Mum is going to wrangle everyone into behaving. I’d worry about Charlie if it were me. Ron will bluster, but that’s all he can do. Bill is busy with his pregnant wife, and he’ll worry but not too much. Percy will try to be respectful if you are. And Charlie will threaten to feed you to his dragons, which he might do. I never did figure out where his last ex went. Vanished mysteriously after visiting him in Romania. What was his name?” George asked, and Ginny rolled her eyes.

“It was Anakin. After some Muggle movie. Quit trying to scare Draco and tell us what you and everyone else wants for Christmas,” Ginny demanded, hands on her hip.

“No one expects anything. It’s our first Christmas since… since the war. Don’t go overboard. Do you need money for gifts?” he asked.

“No, my money is her money,” Draco drawled, and George nodded, a fond look in his eyes.

“You know, Malfoy, you aren’t too bad for a Slytherin. I might even say I like you one day.”

Draco chuckled. “That would be an honor. A legendary Weasley liking me? That puts me right on the map.”

They parted ways, and Ginny held Draco’s gloved hand (hers was also gloved), thinking of how nice it was to spend time with him outside of school.

Once they made it to the Three Broomsticks and removed their cloaks, Ginny had an inkling of what she wanted to do for his parents for Christmas.

“I will need paint and pictures of them. Lots of paint. Every color of the rainbow,” Ginny demanded.

“And you’re not going to tell me why?” Draco asked.

“Now where would the fun be in that?” Ginny teased.

~~~

Ginny spent the next few days in the Gryffindor common room with Hermione by her side. While Ginny painted, Hermione read, studied, wrote the boys, whatever she could think of to do.

“And why won’t you let Draco see it again?” Hermione had asked.

“He can see this one after it’s done. I don’t want to ruin it by seeing what he thinks before it’s finished,” Ginny huffed, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear and getting paint on her face and hair.

Hermione nodded and continued to scan the Daily Prophet.

When the portrait was finished, Ginny snuck it back to her common room at midnight one night. Draco was asleep at the table, having tried to wait up for her. She set the painting down and got him to bed before she promptly passed out herself.

When she woke up, Draco was sitting at their table, staring at the painting in complete silence. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but when he noticed her, he turned to her.

“It’s perfect,” he said simply.

And that was enough for Ginny.

Christmas break approached quickly. More quickly than Ginny or Draco had expected. Ginny was in a good mood as they headed home. To their future home. They would soon be going to his parents, but both families had wanted to see their reaction to their new home. Or at least the matriarchs did.

The house was airy and open. Cozy with a fireplace in their bedroom and hardwood floors. The closet was gigantic—which Ginny was thrilled about—and there were three extra bedrooms for when they had guests—or kids, the thought struck Draco—over to visit.

His mother seemed to take a liking to Ginny. She played with Ginny’s hair, listened to her talk about Quidditch, and overall just stayed absorbed in what his future wife was saying. It was nice. And Mrs. Weasley fretted about him—” I’ve always said Hogwarts never feeds you kids enough, you’re so thin, dear”—while Ginny was lavished with attention. After a few hours, they left, leaving Draco and Ginny very much alone.

“Well,” Draco said as he took in Ginny’s reaction to their house. “I say we have a shot of firewhisky and get started on making a mess.”

Ginny rolled her eyes, but she followed him to the kitchen all the same, her eyes darting over everything. Draco had to admit that the house was perfect. It was open yet somehow cozy. It felt like their own little space, and Dracco guessed that it indeed was. There would be no visitors unless they wanted them. There would be no Slytherins threatening them. It was nice.

Draco opened the bottle, and Ginny got two glasses.

“To us and our new life,” Draco toasted, and they drank.

“Just think; pretty soon it’ll be Christmas,” Ginny said, “And I still haven’t gotten you a gift. I need to go to Diagon Alley.”

And Draco had to admit that he did indeed need to get Ginny her gift as well. He had an idea, and he was going to go with it.

“Well, how about tomorrow? We just got home. You can Apparate, right?”

Ginny snorted. “Of course I can. I’m seventeen. What kind of witch would I be if I couldn’t?” she admonished.

“Well, I’ll give you the vault key so you can do your shopping. I have stuff I need to get as well. And- ahhh!” Draco screamed.

In the middle of the kitchen now stood a house-elf, blinking up at them. Ginny laughed so hard she needed the counter to support her, and Draco would have been put off if it weren’t so damn cute.

“What’s your name?” Ginny asked the house elf.

“I is being Winky. I am your house-elf!” the elf boldly declared.

“Well, Winky, do you think you could make us some french onion soup with bread to go with it? I’m starving!” Ginny asked. And just like that, the house-elf was cooking.

~~~

Diagon Alley was packed with other people doing their last-minute Christmas shopping. Draco had given Ginevra the vault key so she could withdraw money for her gifts. He wondered whether it was wise to let the smartass go shopping on her own. She’d get him a diary that laughed at every entry he made or something equally embarrassing. But still, she went on her way, and he went on his.

“Mr. Malfoy!” the shopkeeper at the Quality Quidditch Supply store said, “How can I help you? Here to buy the Slytherin team new brooms?” he asked hopefully.

“Not today, Ernest. I am here to buy my girlfriend a broom. She is going to be joining the Holyhead Harpies, and she needs the best broom on the market. It needs to be fast, touch-sensitive, and lean. Anything like that in stock?” Draco asked.

“Well, you are in luck! The new Firebolt 200 just came out yesterday! Top of the line. We’ve already had Puddlemore United order some for their entire team. It’s the best. Very touch-sensitive. Very light. It goes naught to 200 in five seconds. It’s the best money can buy. Would you like to look at the display one?” he asked.

Draco nodded, and Ernest, ignoring everyone else, took Draco to the back where the best brooms were kept. Draco turned his back as Ernest went ahead and did some magic to lift the enchantment so they could get a look at the broom.

It was gorgeous. Fire red—which reminded him of Ginny—and long. It weighed very little, and it was aesthetically pleasing to look at. Draco stood there holding it, imagining Ginny seeing it on Christmas Eve at his parents’, and he decided he needed it for her. She deserved something that wasn’t secondhand. Not that he could say anything bad about Potter’s Firebolt. But he wanted her riding something he had gotten her, not something her ex had given her.

“I’ll take it. I need it gift-wrapped and delivered to Malfoy manor in time for Christmas Eve. And, of course, you have the vault information, correct?” Draco asked.

“Yes, Mr. Malfoy. I’ll make sure it looks perfect. Who's the lucky girl, may I ask?”

And Draco knew he was just being nosey. Not everyone knew about him and Ginny yet. But he answered anyway.

“Ginevra Weasley.”

The shopkeeper's mouth dropped open, and he quickly shut it.

“Well, the Weasleys have become one of the most notable families since the war. You’ve done well. Any specific color for the wrapping?” Ernest asked.

~~~

The days passed quickly. Instead of being bored, Draco and Ginny found that they could easily entertain one another. Although they’d yet to leave the house to meet their neighbors, they were having fun. Ginny had Winky help her decorate, and the whole place looked like Father Christmas had gone overboard and thrown up the holiday all over. But it made Ginny happy, so he wasn’t one to complain. Draco was happiest when Ginny was happy, and lately, that seemed like every day. She had strategically placed mistletoe all over the house, too, so that he couldn’t get through a room without having to kiss his future wife. He only pretended to be put out by it, and he was sure she knew he was faking.

Christmas Eve came, and Ginny was bundling up, wrapping Draco’s Weasley scarf around his neck and holding the gift-wrapped portrait. Draco would Apparate them there, and they would have dinner with his family. Or a late lunch, early dinner really. If Ginny was nervous, she didn’t show it. She walked into Malfoy Manor with her head held high as though she belonged there, and to be fair, she did. She had more steel in her than Narcissa Malfoy herself.

“Son! Ginevra!” his mother gasped, running forward to hug her son, and then to hug Ginny, who had to set the gift down.

Narcissa looked at the package, a puzzled expression on her face.

“I made you a gift,” was Ginny’s response.

“How… nice,” Narcissa said, giving a smile as though she were praising a toddler. Draco wanted to groan. This wasn’t just some gift. It was the Malfoy family, sans Ginny, sitting together. It was a perfect picture representation of them, and it was breathtaking. His mother was in for a shock, Draco knew that much.

And indeed, when Draco watched his mum open the gift, he saw her mouth almost drop to the floor.

“Ginevra, this is… gorgeous,” Narcissa Malfoy breathed.

“I’m glad you like it. I thought you might want to remember the way it was when it was just the three of you. I know this whole situation has been crazy, but it’s been an eye-opening experience for me, and I am sure, Draco as well,” Ginny tried to explain.

Draco hadn’t expected to see his mother cry, even if it was just one silent tear. When next she embraced Ginny, it was a hug with emotion. And the rest of the day was spent making toasts, hanging mistletoe, and getting to know each other. It was nice, Draco had to admit. It felt like Ginny fit in, and when his mother and father went to get their gifts for the two kids, Ginny laid her head on Draco’s shoulder.

“I hope it’ll be as easy at my house tomorrow,” Ginny said softly.

“You and me both. I don’t want to come away with something missing,” he mused.

“They wouldn’t dare. I can out magick any of them. I could probably win a duel against Harry, though he’d never let me try because he doesn’t want to be outdone. Bloody prat,” Ginny grumbled.

Draco chuckled. “Is that so, wifey?” he asked.

“Yes, it is bloody well so. He may have nerve, and an uncanny amount of luck, but Harry James Potter cannot hope to outmatch me in a proper duel. I’ll show you tomorrow,” Ginny promised.

“What was in the egg nog?” Draco mused.

“Rum,” Narcissa answered as she walked back in with his father in tow. “Why?”

“Because I am going to outduel Potter tomorrow. Because I can, and I know I can,” Ginny boldly stated.

“Oh, dear. Well, we have hangover potion around here somewhere. I didn’t think it was that strong. How many cups has Ginny had?” Narcissa asked.

“I lost track at six,” Ginny answered.

“Well, dear, stay seated. We have your present anyway. Here you are,” Narcissa said as she handed a small box to Ginny.

Ginny opened it carefully, and inside were two Slytherin green hair combs. Draco thought they’d look lovely in Ginny’s hair if they could tame it enough.

“These were my mother’s combs. They are ancient, passed down through the line of women in the family. But I can assure you that they are luckier than liquid luck. I wore them twice, and I had the two greatest days of my life both times. I hope they give you just as much luck as they have done the women before me,” Narcissa said softly.

Ginny smiled and then looked up at Narcissa with a frown. “But then what would stop me from wearing them every day?” she asked.

“Well, it’s funny, but every woman who has had these has forgotten about them until the exact moment that she needed some luck in her life. And then, when it’s our turn for our daughter or son to marry, we remember to pass them down. They belonged to a veela, if the ancestry is to be believed, so I am sure that has something to do with it. I’d put them in your hair now, but you are a bit drunk…” Narcissa trailed off.

“I am. But I will wear them on my wedding day. I think my mum has an emerald pendant that would look great with these, and what better day then the day I vow always to love this idiot,” Ginny almost slurred.

“Like you don’t already?” Draco deadpanned.

“Oi. I didn’t ask for your input. You let me drink six glasses of eggnog and didn’t warn me there could be alcohol. I’ve never been drunk before… like ever… in my life. This is strange. I don’t like it,” Ginny moaned.

“Hold still; we have a potion for it. Lucius, dear, please find it. If we let her go home and she gets splinched, the whole Weasley family will say we tried to murder her.”

“It’s true, they will, even though they wouldn’t believe it. Weasleys are annoying at times. Like I have six older brothers, and not one of them knows what the letter on the tampon case means. Ron actually asked me if it meant it was for the right one. I said, ‘Ronald, if I have a right one, I have to have a left one, too. Now, does that sound right to you?’ and he sat there, thinking for ten whole minutes. Granted, he was eleven, but still.”

Narcissa buried her face in her hands and laughed, which caused Ginny to laugh, and Draco sat there a moment, trying to comprehend that a) Ron Weasley didn’t understand female anatomy and b) Ginny had outed him for that to his family. It was a rather hilarious moment.

“Are you sure we can’t keep her like this? It’d give us so much leverage,” his mother finally managed to say.

“That’s a very Slty… Slyty… Slytherin thing to say,” Ginny finally managed.

When Lucius walked in with the potion, Draco’s mother regretfully gave it to Ginny, who downed it. She sat there a moment, eyes closed, then she shook her head and opened her eyes.

“I swear on our unborn child, if you tell Ron I told you that you’ll find your nads cut off,” she immediately rounded onto Draco.

This sent Narcissa Malfoy into peals of laughter and left Draco wondering just what he’d done to deserve this lack of faith from his fiancee.

“And if you say you are offended, I will punch you in your nose,” she said before he could even open his mouth.

“I guess I’m not talking then,” he grumbled.

“Damn right, you aren’t,” she responded.

They Apparated back to their house, and Ginny practically—okay completely—pushed Draco out of the way to take a cold shower. She felt hot and sticky and gross from the effects of the potion. Sobering potions were never fun, from what she had heard, and this one had definitely not been an exception to that rule. She fell asleep in their bed wearing one of Draco’s t-shirts and a pair of knickers, utterly unaware of the effect it may or may not have had on Draco.

The next morning they woke up to salted caramel coffee brewed by Winky. Ginny took her cup and woke Draco up by placing a kiss on his cheek. He stretched out and got out of bed, and Ginny was very aware that he was only in his boxers. And that she was in her knickers and his t-shirt. Draco, however, didn’t seem to mind, so she pushed the thought out of her head. It was four in the morning, and magic or no, Molly Weasley would already be up cooking and getting everything taken care of.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” she asked Draco before they Apparated to the Burrow with her guiding him.

“For the fourth time, I am sure. I have to meet them one day, so let’s let that day be today.”

“If you want to fake your death, I totally understand,” Ginny said seriously.

“I’ll fake my own death if we have to keep having they appeared, Ginny was very aware of Draco taking in her childhood home. He had come to accept and love her, but this was a big part of she was. She had been raised with six brothers who were all grown-up now.

“Does magic hold it up?” he asked as he stared up at it.

“Sure is,” she said, ready to defend her home. But the need didn’t arise. Draco grabbed her hand tightly, and they walked into the Burrow.

“Ginny!” came Hermione’s voice, and then she was engulfed in a hug from the older woman. Next was her mother. Ron mused her hair and glanced at Draco, stiffly extending his hand.

Draco took it and said, “Weasley.”

“Malfoy,” Ron replied.

Ginny suspected this was Hermione’s doing. If anyone could get Ron to do anything, it was her.

“What are you two doing here so early?” Ginny asked.

“Ron was dying to come home, and we spent Christmas Eve with my parents, so we just Apparated over here. Harry is having a bit of a lie-in. Apparently, training for the Head of Magical Law Enforcement position takes a lot out of you,” Hermione said with a roll of her eyes.

“Didn’t realize he could get that position so young,” Draco said nervously as Molly Weasley made her way over to him. “Hi, Mrs. Weasley, thank you for having me,” he said as Molly engulfed him in a huge hug.

“Well, he won’t get it for another ten years. Five if the Ministry is really in tip-top shape for Harry to feel okay accepting the position. But I mean, he’s ‘The Chosen One,’ so the whole country wants him to run it. He receives at least three owls a day asking when he’ll take over,” Hermione explained to Draco, who, having just freed himself from the Weasley Matriarch, nodded.

“Makes sense. Ginevra, dear, weren’t you going to tempt Potter to a duel?” he said snarkily.

Ginny gave him a broad grin, “You bet your arse I am. I may have been drunk, but I mean it when I say I can outduel Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived. He better bring his A-game!”

“Not in my house!” Mrs. Weasley yelled, “You will take it outside, or so help me; I’ll set the broomsticks on you all!”

There was laughter, and the group of four moved further into the house.

“So, Malfoy, what are you planning to do after school?” Ron asked as he sat down on the couch. Draco chose an armchair, and Ginny perched on the arm, entirely at ease.

“I want to be an UnSpeakable,” Draco explained as he rested his hand on Ginny’s knee.

“You need top marks in all subjects for that. That’s a hard one. I wouldn’t have made it into Auror training myself if I wasn’t one of the heroes. Some things you learn out there that you can never learn in class,” Ron said as Hermione sat down next to him and took his hand.

“I’m sure. Ginny hasn’t recounted the full saga yet, but from what I hear, you three made it through some really tough spots,” Draco complimented.

“Well, when you have the best two in the year with you…” Ron said rather awkwardly.

“No, Ginevra here said you were one of the core parts of the saga. That Potter admitted, he couldn’t have made it without you. That’s not sidekick material. Now Longbottom, as badass as he was, was sidekick material. But you, Weasley, were not.”

And just like that, Draco Malfoy had won Ron Weasley over. Even Hermione had to beam at Ron.

“I’ve tried telling him that a thousand times. The Weasley men aren’t good with compliments. Bill and Fleur should be along soon. Fleur is expecting, you know. Only three months in, but it’s still exciting,” Hermione gushed.

“Isn’t it? Have they picked out names for the baby yet? I can’t wait to see Bill, and of course, Charlie. Is Percy here, or did he get caught up in working on Christmas day?” Ginny asked.

“Oh,” Ron said, “He’ll be round. He and Penelope Clearwater were busy last night. Not sure how I feel about that, but as long as he never again puts anyone else in front of the family, I guess I can accept it.”

“You know, dear brother, not everyone needs your approval. If Penelope makes him happy, then let him be happy,” Ginny said.

There was a pop from outside, and then they could hear Molly go, “Harry, dear!”

Ginny noticed Draco stiffen because he was the first person she looked to when she heard her mother say that name. Yet Draco unfolded himself and stood. Ginny took his hand and wrapped it around her shoulders.

“Sorry I’m late, Mrs. Weasley. Kreacher wanted me to bring the whole house with me. He is sending pies over for appetizers. And some firewhisky. And probably a whole host of other things. He said it would be the height of insult if you had to do all the cooking today on your own, but I tried to reassure him that that wasn’t the case,” Harry said as he rounded into the living room.

“Malfoy, Ginny, good to see you both. I hope Winky is alright for you two?” he asked.

“Winky?! You didn’t tell me you did that!” screeched Hermione.

“What I don’t tell you could probably fill a book, Hermione. I figured she needed a new family to help her adjust back into life. She hasn’t been right since Barty Crouch…” and then he trailed off.

“So far,” Draco began, “Winky has been wonderful. If she wakes me up with flavored coffee every morning, I may have to start paying her.”

“You know,” Hermione said, launching into a tirade, “I have always said house-elves deserve paying! Look at Dobby! He got paid!”

“That was my old house elf’s name…” Draco said, looking down at Ginny.

“Well, he ended up working at Hogwarts, saving Harry’s life, and dying for the greater good. He had a full, very important life,” Ginny explained.

Draco merely nodded, as Ginny was sure he didn’t know what to say.

“So maybe Draco should start paying Winky!” Hermione burst into the tirade once more.

Harry shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Hermione, too much all at once would give poor Winky a heart attack. Let’s take it slow. I’m sure Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy here aren’t going to overwork her. They’ll be at school the next few months,” Ron said, trying to ease Hermione off her tirade and into a calm state.

“All I am saying is that Wizard kind treats other species as inferior when they aren’t. Look at goblins, for example, th-”

“We were betrayed by one if you remember correctly,” Harry said.

“Because we were going to betray him first!” Hermione stamped her foot.

Draco looked down at Ginny, who shrugged. “It has something to do with the year they saved the world, but what I’m not sure. Come on, let me show you my room.”

She guided Draco up the stairs to her pink room covered in The Weird Sisters posters. Ginny hadn’t even made the bed before she’d left for Hogwarts. Her room was still in various shades of disarray. It was small compared to the room they had at their house in Godric’s Hollow.

THEIR house. How funny that felt even to think. Ginny wouldn’t be coming back here to live. After Hogwarts, she was going to be with Draco. It seemed so close now that it was the Christmas holiday. Ginny hadn’t really given it a lot of thought. They’d had so much studying to do these past few weeks that it was easy to pretend that they would be married in another life. But it was this life, and it was coming soon.

“Can you ever keep anything organized?” Draco muttered quietly, but Ginny still heard him and socked him in the arm for it.

“Prat. I woke up late at the start of term. Be nice!” she ordered.

Draco chuckled and put his hands up in surrender.

“Don’t break me now, wifey. Your punches actually hurt.”

“They’re supposed to. Six. Older. Brothers,” she reiterated.

“All of whom I am sure would be more than willing to hurt me as well,” he grumbled, sitting on the edge of her bed.

“I wouldn’t let them,” she said sweetly, and then “that’s my job.”

Draco grinned at her, his lanky frame out of place in her tiny room. He was too big, too bold for her room. He didn’t fit. Yet he fit perfectly in their spaces that they made together.

It struck Ginny that she was growing up. This room had been a child’s room. Of course, Draco was out of place there. They weren’t children anymore. They’d survived a war and gone on to live their lives. They were adults or as close to adults as one could be without still being a child.

“We should enchant our bedroom ceiling like the Great Hall,” Draco said out of nowhere. Ginny quirked an eyebrow.

“That might be nice…” she said thoughtfully.

“That way, we’ll never feel too far away from the outdoors, even on rainy, muddy days. Besides, it’s a nice bit of magic. You think Granger could do it for us?” he asked.

“I’m sure she could,” was all Ginny could say.

She sat on the edge of her bed with Draco, both of them lost to their own very different yet very similar thoughts.

~~~

When they came back downstairs, the Christmas tree was up, and the angel looked oddly like a gnome. Classic George. The thought of Fred pained Ginny. It still hurt, and she was sure there would never be a time where it didn’t hurt. Such was grief.

“I brought the firewhisky!” came George’s voice from the kitchen, much to thunderous Weasley applause.

“We are not getting drunk on Christmas!” Molly yelled.

“Draco!” George greeted and clapped him on the back before kissing the top of Ginny’s head.

Next came Charlie. Then Bill and Fleur. Finally, Arthur Weasley himself with Percy. The house was full to bursting, and it wasn't quiet. Everyone was shoving trays of food at each other. It seemed Kreacher had sent most of Grimmauld Place’s food over to the Burrow.

“Draco, son, how nice to see you!” Arthur enthused and shook Draco’s hand. Ginny wondered if he’d ever had a Christmas this… busy. Everyone was into something. Gifts were being thrown all around. There was standing room only, and yet more people arrived.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic, walked in, greeting all the Weasleys by name.

“Able to get away there, Kingsley?” Hermione yelled over the noise.

“Just barely. Dean is here, too. Said he couldn’t miss an opportunity to see you three!”

Kingsley pushed his way towards Draco and Ginny, inching closer until he stood next to them.

“Let’s take this outside,” Kingsley ordered, herding them to the door.

Once outside, they could still hear the din of the family. Dean walked past, greeting Ginny and looking at Draco with confusion before shrugging and continuing on.

“So, Mr. Malfoy, I happen to be on excellent terms with Minerva McGonagall,” Kingsley began, and Draco looked like he was ready to be talked down to.

“You know,” Ginny interrupted, stepping between the Minister and her future husband. “I just have to say that it’s quite terrible an innocent man can’t enjoy a meal with his soon-to-be in-laws without the Minister himself getting involved. Whatever you have to say had better be good for taking us away from our family on Christmas!”

Ginny stood there, staring up at Kingsley with fury etched into her face, a look that Molly Weasley had long since perfected. So you can imagine her surprise when Kingsley began to laugh, deeply and loudly.

“What the bloody hell is so funny!” Ginny snapped as Kingsley was currently doubled over laughing. He held one finger out to her. It took him several minutes to compose himself before he could stand upright.

“I always knew you were a loyal one, Ginny. I was only trying to say that McGonagall told me you had ambitions to be an UnSpeakable. Now, being Minister, I may have looked over your current grades. If you keep up the good work, I wouldn’t mind making sure you were hired on fresh out of school. The UnSpeakables need new blood, anyway. I can’t say why, but I can say the same ideas get stale after some time,” he said with a wink.

Ginny stood there, her mouth an ‘o’ of surprise.

“So you wanted to offer him a job basically,” Ginny murmured.

“Yes, but that was priceless,” Kingsley laughed, clapped Draco on the back, and said, “You will have your hands full with this one!”

And with that, Kingsley walked back into the Burrow, still laughing.

Draco started laughing first, using Ginny to prop himself up. Ginny groaned but soon succumbed to the laughter as well. As embarrassing as that was, it was still funny, and even Ginny had to admit that.

“I just told off the bloody Minister of Magic! For nothing!” she gasped.

“Yes, you did. Come on, let’s go back in,” Draco said and then placed a kiss on top of Ginny’s head before lacing his fingers with hers and pulling her back into the Burrow.