A/N: This story has been hanging around my LJ for AGES and I finally managed to inviegle Rainpuddle13 to beta it for me so I could get it posted here. *Hugs* to Rainpuddle for that. I started to write this story during the extremely extended hiatus between chapters 16 and 17 of Exquisite Irony (Chapter 17 of which is up by the way) and I am really becoming fond of it - I have even written a Smut cookie! LOL But enough said. Do please Read and Review because I do read an appreciate my reviews even if I don't always reply. Also do feel free to drop by My Livejournal and have a browse and post an anonymous comment or three! LOL
Anyway, without further ado I give you the fully beta-ed 'Refraction': Chapter 1:
Ginny watched the group of assorted brothers and Hogwarts Alumni with poorly disguised frustration. Her brother was getting married. Her youngest brother. He was the last of the Weasley men to take a wife, leaving Ginny as the only unmarried Weasley child of the 'war generation'. This was not however, what was making her frustrated. Her problem, misinterpreted by both her mother and Hermione as wistful sadness, was that she was miserable for her own fiancé. He would never be surrounded by merry revellers the night before the wedding, he would never have Fred and George glancing at each other meaningfully behind his back, he would never be surrounded by the camaraderie of her brothers or clapped on the back enthusiastically by her father. She sighed.
Her family didn't even know he existed let alone that they were engaged. They would never approve, and she would rather have him in secret than not at all.
She felt so sorry for him, she wished they were all on speaking terms then he would be invited along, treated like one of the family, welcomed. As it was, they were both alone on a day when they should have been together, he in a cold lonely flat in London, abandoned and ostracized by his family and friends, her surrounded by the suffocating warmth of close family with eyes everywhere.
"Don't worry, Ginny dear. You'll meet a nice boy one of these days."
"Yeah Gin, there are plenty of guys just looking for a girl like you."
Too bad for them then isn't it - I've already got one, she thought, idly fingering the long chain around her neck upon which the beautiful, but heavy, cluster of emeralds and diamonds hung, its comforting weight between her breasts reminding her of her delicious secret. She was quite frankly astonished; she had been engaged for six months and thus far, not one of her much-extended family had commented upon her constant fingering of the chain around her neck. Instead, she'd had to endure Hermione crowing over her modest diamond solitaire, having it Ooo-ed and Ahh-ed over by various friends and relations, whilst Ginny's spectacular engagement ring remained unseen and unappreciated by all but the two of them.
Still, she supposed, Ron and Hermione's wedding had been a rather stressful event to organise, perhaps the lack of observation was forgivable. Paid for by the bride's family, but organised by the Weasleys due the necessity for the use of magic, the wedding was rapidly turning into the wizarding event of the year. Likely to be second only to that of the Malfoy heir, when he finally decided to emerge from his self-imposed seclusion and find himself a suitable bride. How little they knew.
Hermione's 'Hen night' progressed in a predictably sensible way; Ginny, Molly Weasley, Veronica Granger, and assorted cousins, school and work friends drank sensibly, laughed, reminisced, and dished out ribald advice to the bride-to-be - not that she needed it - Ginny was still recovering from the mental anguish of seeing Hermione and Ron in flagrante after Anne-Marie’s christening. Everyone bar Ginny had got just drunk enough to start revealing embarrassing things, but not drunk enough to require more than a mild hangover potion the following morning. Ginny, on the other hand, was stone cold sober. She couldn't risk blurting her secret in a drunken fit of confession.
Ron's stag do was a little more raucous. Harry was bankrolling the evening as per 'Best man' tradition, and they started at the Leaky Cauldron, taking in a few shots of Firewhiskey to get everyone in the mood, before heading into Muggle London and getting appropriately trashed in variety of venues that, given the hazy recollections of most of the men involved, appeared to have been nightclubs with topless waitresses, or perhaps it was nightclubs with topless girls dancing, either way, toplessness was stereotypically involved somewhere along the line.
The wedding itself seemed to blur into a mass of noise, colour and perfume. She remembered walking down the aisle in front of Hermione, her ivory Maid-of-honour dress with its exquisite dark green embroidery of twining ivy, whispering beautifully as she walked, her stomach fluttering at the possibility that her little act of rebellion would be discovered by a keen-eyed observer. Alas no, all eyes were on the bride. Hermione had looked stunning as she walked at the ascribed pace, on the arm of John Granger, towards her best-friend-come-husband-to-be.
The reception was lavish, but desperately dull; she danced perfunctorily with Harry as per custom, but there were no longer funny twinges or jolts in her stomach when he touched her, there was only the comfortable easiness of friendship and surrogate brotherhood. Nevertheless, that didn't stop Molly Weasley hoping, and it didn't stop the rampant gossiping in the ladies loo either.
After they had seen Ron and Hermione off on honeymoon - a Muggle aeroplane to the Maldives followed by two blissful weeks of sun, sea and whatever else it was that honeymooning couples got up to, she was finally able to slip away. Harry's house elves - well paid of course - were clearing up, her mother had become all emotional and disappeared home shortly after John and Veronica Granger had been taxied to their hotel, her brothers and assorted wives, sons and daughters had all left at the same time as her parents, leaving just her, Harry, several unopened bottles of Bollinger and an army of house elves. Harry appeared to have gone to sleep, his head cradled in his arm, dangerously close to some rapidly dwindling candles. Extinguishing them with a wave of her hand, she instructed Dobby to ensure that Harry returned to the Burrow, before grabbing one of the bottles and Disapparating.
She appeared in his lounge with a faint pop. To her surprise, he was sitting right in front of her reading the paper. She could feel his eyes on her as he looked her over from head to toe, his expression, as ever, inscrutable. She unceremoniously dumped the champagne on the coffee table.
"Present for you," she said with a wry grin, waiting for him to respond.
"You look beautiful," he said at last. He always knew the right thing to say.
Flopping inelegantly onto the rich leather sofa next to him, not caring that her expensive gown was being creased to buggery, she reached out and grasped his right hand with her left. Sighing dramatically, she threw her head back onto the cushion then let it slide sideways onto his shoulder.
"I see you're wearing it today."
"Yeah."
"Does that mean they know?"
"Of course not, but given the neckline of this dress, I didn't think it advisable to wear it on the chain."
"And wearing it on your finger is less conspicuous?"
"I've been wearing this ring on a chain around my neck for six months and not one of my family has noticed. I promised you I'd never take it off, one way or the other, and I meant it."
"I'm sure I'd have forgiven you for not wearing it for one day."
"No! That's not the point. We're engaged, you've given me a gorgeous ring, and I bloody well intend to wear it. I'm so sick of hiding. I'm so sick of having to take it off when I go home, and most of all I'm sick and tired of hearing the 'when are you going to find yourself a man and get married Ginny?' and the 'isn't it about time you settled down Ginny?' GOD IT'S SO FRUSTRATING!!" she cried. "Do you know I wore my engagement ring on the proper finger today on purpose? I hoped someone would spot it and make a note to ask me about it later. I wanted to be 'discovered', I'm so tired of the deceit. At the rate we're going, we'll never get around to telling my family and we'll be stuck in this godforsaken limbo forever!"
His fingers squeezed hers comfortingly, and he turned her face towards him with his other hand, claiming her lips in a warm, loving kiss.
"So what do you want to do about it?" he asked, once they'd broken apart, "they're your family after all. I've got nothing to hold me back, no-one to hide this from." His slightly bitter tone of voice was not lost on her, she knew what he had lost when he defected and it made her feel the need to love him all the more to make up for it.
She remembered the final battle, well, parts of it anyway. She remembered just before the end, coming face to face with a Death Eater. He was terrified, running, his white-blond hair escaping the confines of the hood and mask and waving in strands about his face, as though they were errant thoughts refracting into the morning sunshine, a bid to escape, perhaps. They'd stared at one another for an eternity, each possessing the power to end the life of the other, each belonging to opposing sides, yet they did nothing.
"I was wrong," he had said. The first step on the road to redemption. It was such an absurd statement to come from his mouth that it's sincerity could not be denied.
"Then now do what is right." she had said, before reaching up to rip away his mask, dropping it to the ground.
He had nodded, and they had fought side by side, stunning, hexing, immobilising, but not killing, not killing. Until a Death Eater grabbed her from behind, no longer bothering to use magic, he had raised a vicious-looking dagger high in the air, intending to eviscerate her no doubt. She had squeezed her eyes shut, and time stood still as she waited for the pain, the blood, the blackness. But it never came.
"Avada Kedavra!"
She didn't see it strike, but felt the tingling, flooding cold of a life torn from its mortal vessel, she felt the painful grip ease and she could breathe again. The body behind her went limp, heavy, and toppled to the ground, like a puppet whose strings had been severed. Stumbling forwards, she turned in time to see her saviour drop to his knees, howling his anguish like a feral beast. Looking at the corpse at her feet, she stared, mesmerised as pale blond spilled out from under black. He had not hated his father, he had only hated Voldemort, but they were on opposite sides now and, ultimately, love wasn't strong enough.
She wasn't sure quite what happened next; she remembered holding him as he sobbed unashamedly into her tattered, mud bedaubed robes, she remembered an almighty explosion followed by an indeterminate length of eerie silence, and then gentle hands pulling them apart.
He had endured two years in Azkaban, the evidence of eyewitnesses that had seen the pair in action saved him from the Dementors Kiss, it even saved him from a life sentence. Nevertheless he had to be punished for his known crimes of corruption, bribery and coercion. Two years. She had visited him once, sometimes twice, a week, every week for those two years. She was his only female visitor. His mother had disowned him. Patricide was something that she could not forgive him for, not that he could even forgive himself. He had loved his father, he told her. Eventually, she persuaded him to see the reason behind his actions. He had saved her life, He had saved her from a painful and gory death at the hands of a man quite prepared to go to such lengths. He may have been his father, and they may have loved each other, but that did not change the reality of Lucius' crimes. Narcissa moved to Spain shortly after his sentencing, and as the last surviving Black descendant, she took the Black inheritance and Lucius's private fortune, leaving the remainder of the Malfoy estate, its millions of Galleons and business interests, its multiple properties and investments to Draco - the last of the Malfoy line. He'd not heard from her since.
Ginny had been there for him when he had been released, blinking, into the October sunshine. She had secretly helped him find a nice, big, unplottable flat in London, and taught him some rudimentary housekeeping spells. After that, she had continued to visit, bringing pots of casserole, soup or stew that her mother had left for her, sharing them with him over fresh-baked bread and velvet wines. If her mother had known how her culinary charity was being distributed, she would surely have left Ginny to her own devices.
Their relationship was complicated. They were, to all intents and purposes, friends, of a sort. But they were more than that, he had saved her life, there was a bond between them, something magical and unbreakable. They ate dinner together at least three days a week, sometimes there was talk, sometimes not. Companionship seemed to suit them quite happily until, by some unspoken compulsion, they had gone to each other in a fervour of desperate need, each giving the other solace. They had made love then, slowly, passionately, their bodies moving together in the sinuous rhythm of their emotion. They had climaxed together, bodies so entwined that neither knew where each ended and the other began, their tears of joy, pain, and absolution merging. Afterwards, they had lain together, holding each other silently until the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, and they had slept the sleep of the redeemed; deep, clean, refreshing.
That had been nearly three years ago, and here they were now, no closer to telling her family of their love, no closer to any sort of resolution. Then again perhaps they were looking in the wrong place.
So what did she want to do?
She wanted to marry Draco. She wanted to tell her family, she wanted them all to be happy.
She was happy with Draco. They made each other happy. But she loved her family, they made her happy too. So much happiness unacceptably compartmentalised.
"Let’s get married!"
"Do what?" he said, momentarily surprised by her blurted statement. "We already are. Eventually."
"That's not what I meant: I meant lets get married now!"
He stared at her slightly incredulously, before a rare smile crinkled the corners of his mouth.
"I can live with that."
"Me too. So it's decided then? We're getting married?"
"So it would seem."
She gave a little squeal of glee and threw her arms around him.
"Where are we going to go? It'll have to be Scotland, but I don't know of any wizarding chapels there."
"Funnily enough, neither do I having never needed one before. All we need is a qualified ministry official I think, and a witness or two."
"We could go to Hogwarts - Dumbledore is Supreme Mugwump and we could get a couple of teachers to witness - that way it'd be people we know."
"Hogwarts? Are you serious? I don't think I ever want to set foot there again! Unless of course it's to watch our children play Quidditch, obviously."
She blushed at his cavalier mention of children. They'd discussed it, occasionally, but never usually referred to the possibility of them actually existing.
"Can you think of somewhere better?"
"I suppose not," he said slowly.
"Well then, it's decided, so get dressed. I'm alright like this, I've got enough stuff here to last a couple of days and then I can pop home and get some more - maybe pop by the Burrow and spill the beans while I'm at it."
"Are you sure you're ready?"
"Best time really, now Ron's out of the way for a fortnight."
"Are we really going to do this?"
"Absolutely."
Harry stumbled down the stairs and into the kitchen, towelling his freshly-washed hair. Molly Weasley was humming happily to herself and cooking breakfast for the eight current inhabitants of the house: Harry, Ginny, Arthur, Fred, Angelina, George, Katie and herself.
"Morning Molly, have you seen Gin this morning?"
Molly smiled to herself at Harry's question.
"Good morning, dear. No, last I saw, she was still at the hall after the reception. I thought she came home with you, whenever that was."
"No, she was gone when Dobby woke me."
"Oh well, not to worry, she's probably still in bed."
"She isn't, that's why I asked. I knocked this morning to see if she wanted the loo before I used the shower and when there was no answer I got Fred to look in on her and she wasn't there. Her bed doesn't even look slept in."
Molly frowned, Ginny may be independent, but with all the wedding preparations, Harry, Ginny, Fred, George, Angelina and Katie had all been staying at the Burrow, since excessive travel was bad for women in Katie and Angelina's condition. Harry's house was undergoing renovation and Ginny had been central to much of the organisation.
"She might have gone home." Although in truth, Molly couldn't understand why - the entire family was due to arrive at the Burrow that afternoon and there was far too much to be done for Ginny just to bugger off back to London without explaining herself.
"Not according to the Clock."
The infamous Weasley Clock, infallible, unbreakable and never wrong.
Wiping her hands on her apron, Molly smiled tiredly at her surrogate son and went to look at the clock. Sure enough, Ginny's hand was pointing to 'Goodness knows where'. That meant that she had either made herself untraceable, or she was in an unplottable building. Molly was not overly concerned, her daughter knew how to look after herself and her hand had frequently moved to 'Goodness knows where' in the two years following the war. In fact, she'd disappeared on an almost weekly basis, but always came back.
"She's probably tired love," Molly said to Harry, "She'll be back later, maybe she just went for a bit of peace and quiet."
She woke first, wrapped in his warmth. She watched him sleep for a few minutes before reaching up and stroking his hair out of his eyes gently - a move almost guaranteed to wake him.
He shook his head gently and stirred, his eyelids fluttering open.
"Morning," she said brightly.
"M'ning," he mumbled, stretching lazily beside her before taking her in his arms again.
"Any regrets?" he asked.
"Nope."
"You know your family is going to beat me to a bloody pulp for this don't you?"
"Yep," she said, smiling beatifically.
"You don't have to look so pleased about it," he grumbled good naturedly.
"And why shouldn't I be pleased? No more hiding, remember?"
"I remember. As far as your family will be concerned, I stole your innocence and have probably inveigled you into marrying me. I'll be lucky to retain my masculinity once they get hold of me."
"Firstly, you didn't steal my innocence, I gave it to you. There's a difference. Secondly, there is no way on earth I can be inveigled into doing anything I don't want to - I made sure of that a long time ago. Thirdly, you're being dramatic, my brothers aren't that bad. Honestly, sometimes I wonder why I put up with you."
"Because you love me," he grinned cheekily, "and because I'm fantastic in bed."
"You forgot 'modest'," she laughed. "Anyway, who says you're fantastic? I don't recall saying any such thing. I sincerely hope you aren't choosing this most inauspicious moment to confess some torrid affair behind my back?" she questioned, with mock incredulity lacing her words.
"I don't recall 'Oh god, Draco, please', to be in any way indicative of displeasure," he said, trailing gentle kisses up and down her neck, making her shiver most agreeably.
"You're incorrigible, do you know that?"
"Uhn huh."
She sighed in satisfaction as his wandering hands and hot lips made short work of ridding the last traces of sleep from her body and mind. She was so relaxed - there was no better way to describe it. She realised that all the time they had been secretly engaged, she had been tense and edgy, their secret worrying at her mind and making her stressed. Now they were married it was as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders - she now had no choice but to tell her parents, and at the same time their marriage was concrete, solid, legally and magically binding, not to mention fully consummated. Smiling languorously and moaning softly, she arched her body into his touch and let her utter delight wash over her.
"Oh honestly where is that girl?" Molly Weasley huffed. They'd tried sending Hedwig out with a note, but she had returned an hour later, most disgruntled, and pecked Harry's hand as he removed the undelivered missive.
The guests would be arriving any minute and Ginny was nowhere to be found. Katie and Angelina had tried to help as much as they could but in their condition they were more a hindrance than anything else. Harry, as usual, played the dutiful son, fetching and carrying. Fred and George were predictably useless, and so Molly sent them off to pick up the Grangers from the hotel since Muggles would not, ordinarily, be able to find the Burrow.
"Ooo! When I get my hands on her I'm going to wring her neck!" Molly cried, exasperatedly. Harry had Flooed all her friends and some of her work colleagues and no one had seen her. Molly sighed, she had high hopes for Ginny and Harry, they'd looked so lovely together dancing at the reception. Molly secretly hoped that Ginny would abandon her frivolous insistence that she didn't need a man, and see what was right in front of her. She and Harry were perfect for each other.
They lay side-by-side, waiting for their breathing to return to normal, their fingers intertwined. He was studying her left hand, the ring finger of which bore the matching wedding band to her exquisite engagement ring.
"I'm sorry you missed out."
"What?" She was confused by his incongruous statement.
"You deserve so much better."
"What are you on about?"
"You deserved a big wedding, lots of celebration, bridesmaids and people fawning over you. You should have had a proper dress too, instead of having to make do with your bridesmaid dress." He nodded towards the crumpled pile of ivory fabric on the floor by the bed. "You deserve champagne, a cake and dancing, and I'm sorry you missed out."
"Oh, now you're being bloody ridiculous. I hate being the centre of attention, you know that. Did I ever say that I wanted a big wedding? Did I ever say that I wanted a cake and dancing? I'm happy with the way we did things. I love you, I wanted to marry you, we got married. End of story. No family rows, no drunken uncles, no sobbing mother, no violent Ron. It was perfect."
"What about the champagne and celebration?"
"We had champagne remember?" she cocked her head towards the empty bottle on her bedside table, "and celebration. We 'celebrated' three times, four if you count this morning!" She smirked at him lasciviously.
"Your mother's going to kill me though - I deprived her of organising the wedding of her life."
"Eurgh, she organised three of the six weddings of my brothers and believe me, it's TORTURE."
"I know, but you're her only daughter."
"Well my mother thinks I'm going to marry Harry," she snorted.
"She thinks you're going to marry Scarhead? Why? This isn't your turn for confessing sordid little secrets is it?"
She laughed. "No, but it's more-or-less a given in our household that when I get bored of playing 'Miss Independent', I'm going to settle down with Harry and raise a horde of children."
"Please, do me a favour and never mention You, Scarhead, and procreation in the same sentence ever again," he groaned. "One Potter is enough for the world thank you, and I don't intend to donate my wife to the cause of creating another one."
Laughing, she kissed him soundly and turned over to look at the time.
"Oh! Bugger me!" she cried.
"I don't think I've got the energy right now," he quipped.
She scrambled from the bed, giving him delicious flashes of her pert arse and firm breasts.
"It's not funny. Draco. I'm supposed to have been at home four hours ago - we've organised a post-wedding party. Oh god, my mother's going to kill me."
She raced towards the shower, tripping over her dress and colliding with a table, pulling it over and bringing a lamp and two potted plants crashing to the floor. His face appeared over the edge of the upturned table, a wry smirk gracing his lips.
"More haste, less speed, Ginny darling." Offering her his hand, he helped her up, undisguisedly admiring her total nakedness. "You've made yourself all dirty, Mrs Malfoy, and I consider it my spousal duty to rectify that immediately."
Grabbing a towel and her hand, he sauntered towards the bathroom, equally naked.
"You know, I'd be quite within my rights to charm that," he grumbled.
"What? My wedding ring?" she asked, as she tugged it off her finger. "Don't worry, I told you I was going to spill the beans today, I'm just going to do it in style," she said, smirking as she slipped her extravagant engagement ring onto her finger, followed by the matching wedding band. She still couldn't quite believe that he'd owned their wedding rings for over seven months during which time she'd not discovered them.
"There, how does that look?" she asked, holding out her hand for his approval.
"Perfect," he said, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing it gently. "Take care, Gin. I want you back with me tonight. If you're not home by midnight, I'll come and rescue you," he said, laughing.
Rolling her eyes good-naturedly, she sighed. "My family is hardly going to hold me prisoner when they discover that I eloped. They'll be more likely to disown me!"
"Never can tell with your brothers - and when they find out I'm a Malfoy, well I dread to think!" he exclaimed with mocking drama.
"I'll see you later. If all goes well, I might bring you a doggy bag."
"I can't wait," he muttered dryly as the echo of her disapparition bounced off of the walls.
The last guest had arrived twenty minutes ago, and there was still no sign of Ginny. Molly had gone from mad to angry to worried, but with so many guests to attend to, she failed to notice when Ginny's hand moved to 'Travelling'. She did, however, notice the pop of apparition in the hallway, and went to investigate.
"GINEVRA MOLLY WEASLEY WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?" Molly shrieked.
Ginny had the good graces to look abashed, her hands thrust in the pockets of her robes, her head bowed.
"I'm sorry, Mum," she mumbled, "I was with...a friend..."
"I don't care!" Molly cried, "You knew this was planned, you knew we needed you. Honestly! Well, now you're here you can make yourself useful! There are some sandwiches in the kitchen that need handing out."
Huffing angrily, Molly stomped off leaving Ginny standing in that hall, no closer to telling her mother the real reason for her absence. Not that Molly would have to hear everything, obviously.
Drawing her hands from the pocket of her robes, she looked down. The sleeves on her robes were nice and long and stopped just shy of her fingertips. Ginny was a little worried, she wanted to tell everyone, but wasn't quite sure how to go about it. Judging by her mother's behaviour, there would most likely be an almighty row, which was something that Hermione's parents didn't need to hear. Muggles they may be, but even they knew the significance of the name 'Malfoy' - after all, Hermione had been gravely injured by Lucius, and it had been touch-and-go as to whether she would retain the full use of her wand arm. Luckily the medic team had reached her in time.
She entered the kitchen to see pandemonium. Her various nieces and nephews were running around in circles screaming, Molly was looking hot and bothered, Fred and George had given the kids some sort of sweet that made their hair flash all the colours of the rainbow, and their mothers were nowhere in sight.
She saw Bill and Fleur's oldest two, Luc and Chantelle, Charlie and Tonk's twins, Samuel and Serena, and Percy's daughter Melissa, who appeared not to be having as much fun as her cousins. She knew she shouldn't, but the noise was so unbearable, that she whipped out her wand and cast a silencing charm on the gaggle of youngsters. Her mother looked scandalised.
"Ginevra, you can't silence them, they're children!"
Melissa appeared to be on the verge of tears and Samuel had taken to pinching his sister and laughing silently at her inaudible squeals of pain.
Raising her voice to grab their attention, Ginny yelled "ALRIGHT YOU LOT, OUTSIDE NOW!!!! AND APOLOGISE TO GRANDMA WEASLEY WHILE YOU'RE AT IT!" Casting the counter-charm to reverse the silence she had placed on them, she pointed towards the back door.
The kids looked slightly bashful as they shuffled outside, mumbling 'Sorry Nana Weasley, sorry Aunty Ginny," as they went.
When order had been restored, Ginny turned to her mother, "I'm sorry, Mum. I didn't mean to be so late. I just...forgot. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing and I just got caught up in it."
Molly's face softened. "Oh well, you're here now I suppose."
The rest of the afternoon progressed somewhat predictably into evening. Inevitably the mothers had rather too much punch, and by seven o’clock, the women had moved into the kitchen leaving the men talking Quidditch and plug sockets. Poor John Granger, any time he was within sight of Arthur Weasley, he was accosted and dragged out into the garden shed to give a detailed explanation of the function of a stapler or explain the use of those odd little spirals of metal that Muggles use in offices.
Now would be a very good time to tell them. Ginny thought, willing the words to form on her lips. But they refused. What could she say? 'Sorry to interrupt everyone, but I have an announcement to make. Last night I ran away to Hogwarts and married the son of this family's mortal enemy. More tea. Angelina?' She simply couldn't do it, not when they were all so happy. It would have to be soon though - before Ron got back, otherwise her chances for swaying her family's collective opinion diminished exponentially with every word that he would be likely to utter. Well, scream would probably be a more appropriate assessment of his likely reaction. He'd still not forgiven the Malfoy line in general for Hermione's near death experience. Although, she mused, if it hadn't been for Lucius trying to kill her, Ron and Hermione might never have got together, let alone engaged and married, so really, he should be grateful, in a roundabout sort of way.
Her mum was going to go ballistic.
Unbeknownst to Ginny, she had been absent-mindedly leaning her chin on the heel of her left hand, her elbow planted firmly on the table, and now her robes had begun to slide down her arm, exposing tens-of-thousands of Galleons-worth of engagement and wedding rings for all to see.
Ultimately, and ironically, it was Veronica Granger that spilled the proverbial beans, so to speak. Ginny had ended her musings and snapped out of her reverie just in time to hear the tail-end of what Hermione's mother was saying to the Weasley matriarch.
"...and of course you've another wedding in the family to organise, oh Molly you must be so proud."
"Another wedding?" Angelina asked, bemused.
"What wedding?" Molly asked, genuine confusion written across her face.
"Ginny's, of course. Who did you think I meant?" Veronica asked, looking as though she had suddenly realised that nobody knew.
"OH MY GOD!" Katie shrieked, grabbing the hand that Ginny hadn't been fast enough at moving. "Would you look at these rocks? Where on earth did you get them?"
"Rocks? What rocks?" Molly asked, bewildered.
Unceremoniously, Katie dragged Ginny's hand into the centre of the table and pinned it to the wood. For a heavily pregnant woman, she was surprisingly fast and freakishly strong.
There was dead silence for a few moments as each of the women took in the sight of the enormous, glittering cluster of gems. Jaws dropped. They seemed not to notice the matching wedding band half-hidden beneath it.
"Oh this is absurd," Molly stated, "clearly it's costume jewelry worn on the wrong finger. There's no way those are real. She's not even been seeing anyone."
Ginny flushed scarlet, both from embarrassment at her predicament, and with anger at her mother's snubbing of her glorious ring.
"Costume jewellery or not, I'd love to know where you got it Gin, it's gorgeous!"
"It's not costume jewellery," she snapped, yanking her hand back across the table. "And it's on the right finger," she muttered rebelliously, barely audible.
"Ginny," Molly demanded, her voice stern, "I suggest you explain immediately. Who gave you that? It must have cost a fortune. Was it Harry?" Molly looked slightly hopeful at the possibility.
She supposed the time for truth telling had come at last.
"No, Harry didn't give it to me. Yes, it did cost a fortune, and it was given to me by the man I love."
"Man you love?" Molly spluttered, "you've not been seeing anyone! How can you be in love?"
"Correction, I never told you I was seeing anyone."
"Why? I know you like your independence, Ginevra, but this is taking it to the extreme don't you think?"
"I didn't tell you for a reason. You wouldn't have approved and I wanted the chance to enjoy something for myself before you all interfered. To be honest, I never thought it'd get this serious, but I guess I was wrong. It did."
"Who is it, Ginny? I demand to know. Who on earth do you know that can afford to buy you something like that? If it's as genuine as it looks, then it must be worth more than this entire house..." Molly trailed off, the blood draining from her face. Her eyes widened in shock and she began to shake her head muttering "Oh gods no Ginevra, tell me you didn't?"
"Didn't what?" she retorted belligerently.
"Not that Malfoy boy? Please gods tell me you didn't, Ginny?"
"If you mean Draco, then yes, I did."
There was ringing silence. Her sisters-in-law and Veronica had been sitting in silence throughout the verbal volley exchanged by mother and daughter, but now every head turned towards her, shock and disappointment etched across their faces. Of course, the whole family knew about Ginny fighting side-by-side with Malfoy, and they knew that the pair of them had been found together, but they dismissed it as an 'any-port-in-a-storm' connection between the pair of them. Ron had even rationalised the 'clinging together' as being the result of mutual delirium in the face of victory. After he had been sentenced, life went back to normal. Ron stopped glaring at her, Percy stopped frowning in her direction and the awkward atmosphere that had hung in the air dissipated. They clearly thought that she would abandon him, that he was a brief connection forged in times of war and forgotten once life returned to normal.
"YOU DID WHAT?" Molly shrieked, bringing a gaggle of curious male relations to the kitchen door.
"Oh Ginny," Fleur gasped.
"Look, this really isn't the best time to be discussing this."
Her mother looked decidedly dangerous.
"BEST TIME? THERE'LL NEVER BE A BEST TIME, GINNY! YOU APPEAR TO BE ENGAGED TO A MALFOY!!!"
Ginny winced as her brothers stormed into the room, all starting to shout and yell at once, their threats and curses bouncing around the room like ping-pong balls.
"Actually," she said quietly, "I'm not engaged to him, we're married."
Luckily, her father was there to catch her mother as she fainted.
Looking at the angry faces of her family, she decided not to cause any more trouble. She could come back tomorrow, maybe drag Draco along with her and then they would see that he wasn't so bad. So, with a muttered 'Disapperesco', and a flourish of her wand, she Disapparated, the angry shouts of her family echoing in her ears.
She reappeared in his apartment, or rather, the apartment that was soon to become theirs once she had sorted everything out with her landlord. Not seeing him immediately, she tossed her cloak towards the stand, allowing the magicked object to catch it and hang it neatly, before wandering into the kitchen. She was torn between feeling elated that her secret was out in the open, and bursting into tears over the ruckus with her family. Opting for the latter, she plopped unceremoniously onto a chair and buried her face in her hands, letting her frustrated and angry tears pour down her face and drip onto her robes.
She felt his hands on her shoulders, warm and strong, a moment before he spoke. "I take it it didn't go well then," he said smoothly, his voice soothing.
"No. There was lots of shouting and Mother fainted."
"She fainted?" he asked, his voiced laced with incredulity.
"Oh yes, and Fred started yelling about you putting me under the Imperius curse, then George started on about 'having your soul for this'. Well, I just couldn't listen to it anymore. So I came home."
He said nothing for a while, kneading her shoulders gently with his fingers. She sighed with relief, and felt herself relax as the knots of tension dissipated under his skilled touch.
"Have you eaten?" she asked at length.
"I had Cheese on toast if that counts?"
"Did you cook it or magic it?"
"A bit of both."
"Meaning you tried to cook it, set fire to the bread, gave up and let the spell do the work."
"Pretty much. How did you guess?"
"Firstly, I know you, remember? Secondly, I'm sitting here staring at the scorch mark on the oven."
She heard him laugh, deep and throaty. It felt so surreal to be sitting there, knowing that she would never again have to leave him to return to her miserable tiny flat to a restless night of chilly solitude. At least he could afford to keep his apartment properly warm. Before she had begun to stay regularly, she had had to trade off between a warm bedroom and a hot bath. Usually the bath won. She couldn't believe they were finally married; it was enough to make her want to giggle with joy like a little girl, and hop around the room clapping her hands.
The previous night, in between their less coherent moments, they had agreed that his apartment was plenty big enough for the two of them, and that she would move in immediately. She would, of course, be breaking her rental contract with her landlord, but Draco had told her that he would take care of it. In other words, he would pay the man the remaining five months worth of rent up front to release her from the contract, in return for the landlords signature on an official solicitors agreement form stating that Ginevra Malfoy neé Weasley was no longer under any contractual obligation and that there were no outstanding debts. Well, it was something like that, and she could quite conceivably see the landlord being more than happy with the arrangement. Now, official joint occupation was just a case of transferring her scant belongings to his cavernous abode, and she couldn't wait.
"You know, we're going to have to go and see my parents tomorrow, I can't leave it like this." She felt his hands falter, and heard him breath deeply then sigh.
"I notice the use of the word 'we're', I assume that means me as well."
"I want them to meet you properly. I'm still sore at them for not thanking you after the war, and I want them to get to know you before making judgments on our relationship," she insisted.
He said nothing, but the resumption of his attention on her shoulders was indicative of his capitulation. He might be arrogant every now-and-again, and certainly snobby, but there were times when his noble and altruistic streaks shone through and she did love him for it.
Later on, as he lay sleeping, she studied his face. His noble blood had carved sharp features that, whilst not traditionally handsome, possessed a grace and elegance that gave him a beauty all of his own. His pale hair lay across the pillows in errant strands, reminiscent of the first time she had really seen the true him. She still wondered what it was that had prevented her from dropping him with a well placed stunner as he barrelled across the field towards her, and her sentimental streak often asserted that it had been his hair. Usually so neatly confined and restrained, the epitome of elegant perfection, his hair had been flying haphazardly, a perfect analogy for his changed allegiance. All pretence and posturing had been abandoned, and he had simply been a frightened teenager, not yet even fully a man, running from horrors that no one should have had to face. Perhaps she had seen his terror and helplessness and recognised some part of her own feelings mirrored in his eyes. Whatever the reason, providence had intervened and a bond was forged that day that only grew ever stronger.
Let tomorrow come, let her family say what they will, do what they will, because she knew that their love would survive it. If she was made to choose between him and her family, there was really no contest.
Anyway, without further ado I give you the fully beta-ed 'Refraction': Chapter 1:
Ginny watched the group of assorted brothers and Hogwarts Alumni with poorly disguised frustration. Her brother was getting married. Her youngest brother. He was the last of the Weasley men to take a wife, leaving Ginny as the only unmarried Weasley child of the 'war generation'. This was not however, what was making her frustrated. Her problem, misinterpreted by both her mother and Hermione as wistful sadness, was that she was miserable for her own fiancé. He would never be surrounded by merry revellers the night before the wedding, he would never have Fred and George glancing at each other meaningfully behind his back, he would never be surrounded by the camaraderie of her brothers or clapped on the back enthusiastically by her father. She sighed.
Her family didn't even know he existed let alone that they were engaged. They would never approve, and she would rather have him in secret than not at all.
She felt so sorry for him, she wished they were all on speaking terms then he would be invited along, treated like one of the family, welcomed. As it was, they were both alone on a day when they should have been together, he in a cold lonely flat in London, abandoned and ostracized by his family and friends, her surrounded by the suffocating warmth of close family with eyes everywhere.
"Don't worry, Ginny dear. You'll meet a nice boy one of these days."
"Yeah Gin, there are plenty of guys just looking for a girl like you."
Too bad for them then isn't it - I've already got one, she thought, idly fingering the long chain around her neck upon which the beautiful, but heavy, cluster of emeralds and diamonds hung, its comforting weight between her breasts reminding her of her delicious secret. She was quite frankly astonished; she had been engaged for six months and thus far, not one of her much-extended family had commented upon her constant fingering of the chain around her neck. Instead, she'd had to endure Hermione crowing over her modest diamond solitaire, having it Ooo-ed and Ahh-ed over by various friends and relations, whilst Ginny's spectacular engagement ring remained unseen and unappreciated by all but the two of them.
Still, she supposed, Ron and Hermione's wedding had been a rather stressful event to organise, perhaps the lack of observation was forgivable. Paid for by the bride's family, but organised by the Weasleys due the necessity for the use of magic, the wedding was rapidly turning into the wizarding event of the year. Likely to be second only to that of the Malfoy heir, when he finally decided to emerge from his self-imposed seclusion and find himself a suitable bride. How little they knew.
Hermione's 'Hen night' progressed in a predictably sensible way; Ginny, Molly Weasley, Veronica Granger, and assorted cousins, school and work friends drank sensibly, laughed, reminisced, and dished out ribald advice to the bride-to-be - not that she needed it - Ginny was still recovering from the mental anguish of seeing Hermione and Ron in flagrante after Anne-Marie’s christening. Everyone bar Ginny had got just drunk enough to start revealing embarrassing things, but not drunk enough to require more than a mild hangover potion the following morning. Ginny, on the other hand, was stone cold sober. She couldn't risk blurting her secret in a drunken fit of confession.
Ron's stag do was a little more raucous. Harry was bankrolling the evening as per 'Best man' tradition, and they started at the Leaky Cauldron, taking in a few shots of Firewhiskey to get everyone in the mood, before heading into Muggle London and getting appropriately trashed in variety of venues that, given the hazy recollections of most of the men involved, appeared to have been nightclubs with topless waitresses, or perhaps it was nightclubs with topless girls dancing, either way, toplessness was stereotypically involved somewhere along the line.
The wedding itself seemed to blur into a mass of noise, colour and perfume. She remembered walking down the aisle in front of Hermione, her ivory Maid-of-honour dress with its exquisite dark green embroidery of twining ivy, whispering beautifully as she walked, her stomach fluttering at the possibility that her little act of rebellion would be discovered by a keen-eyed observer. Alas no, all eyes were on the bride. Hermione had looked stunning as she walked at the ascribed pace, on the arm of John Granger, towards her best-friend-come-husband-to-be.
The reception was lavish, but desperately dull; she danced perfunctorily with Harry as per custom, but there were no longer funny twinges or jolts in her stomach when he touched her, there was only the comfortable easiness of friendship and surrogate brotherhood. Nevertheless, that didn't stop Molly Weasley hoping, and it didn't stop the rampant gossiping in the ladies loo either.
After they had seen Ron and Hermione off on honeymoon - a Muggle aeroplane to the Maldives followed by two blissful weeks of sun, sea and whatever else it was that honeymooning couples got up to, she was finally able to slip away. Harry's house elves - well paid of course - were clearing up, her mother had become all emotional and disappeared home shortly after John and Veronica Granger had been taxied to their hotel, her brothers and assorted wives, sons and daughters had all left at the same time as her parents, leaving just her, Harry, several unopened bottles of Bollinger and an army of house elves. Harry appeared to have gone to sleep, his head cradled in his arm, dangerously close to some rapidly dwindling candles. Extinguishing them with a wave of her hand, she instructed Dobby to ensure that Harry returned to the Burrow, before grabbing one of the bottles and Disapparating.
She appeared in his lounge with a faint pop. To her surprise, he was sitting right in front of her reading the paper. She could feel his eyes on her as he looked her over from head to toe, his expression, as ever, inscrutable. She unceremoniously dumped the champagne on the coffee table.
"Present for you," she said with a wry grin, waiting for him to respond.
"You look beautiful," he said at last. He always knew the right thing to say.
Flopping inelegantly onto the rich leather sofa next to him, not caring that her expensive gown was being creased to buggery, she reached out and grasped his right hand with her left. Sighing dramatically, she threw her head back onto the cushion then let it slide sideways onto his shoulder.
"I see you're wearing it today."
"Yeah."
"Does that mean they know?"
"Of course not, but given the neckline of this dress, I didn't think it advisable to wear it on the chain."
"And wearing it on your finger is less conspicuous?"
"I've been wearing this ring on a chain around my neck for six months and not one of my family has noticed. I promised you I'd never take it off, one way or the other, and I meant it."
"I'm sure I'd have forgiven you for not wearing it for one day."
"No! That's not the point. We're engaged, you've given me a gorgeous ring, and I bloody well intend to wear it. I'm so sick of hiding. I'm so sick of having to take it off when I go home, and most of all I'm sick and tired of hearing the 'when are you going to find yourself a man and get married Ginny?' and the 'isn't it about time you settled down Ginny?' GOD IT'S SO FRUSTRATING!!" she cried. "Do you know I wore my engagement ring on the proper finger today on purpose? I hoped someone would spot it and make a note to ask me about it later. I wanted to be 'discovered', I'm so tired of the deceit. At the rate we're going, we'll never get around to telling my family and we'll be stuck in this godforsaken limbo forever!"
His fingers squeezed hers comfortingly, and he turned her face towards him with his other hand, claiming her lips in a warm, loving kiss.
"So what do you want to do about it?" he asked, once they'd broken apart, "they're your family after all. I've got nothing to hold me back, no-one to hide this from." His slightly bitter tone of voice was not lost on her, she knew what he had lost when he defected and it made her feel the need to love him all the more to make up for it.
She remembered the final battle, well, parts of it anyway. She remembered just before the end, coming face to face with a Death Eater. He was terrified, running, his white-blond hair escaping the confines of the hood and mask and waving in strands about his face, as though they were errant thoughts refracting into the morning sunshine, a bid to escape, perhaps. They'd stared at one another for an eternity, each possessing the power to end the life of the other, each belonging to opposing sides, yet they did nothing.
"I was wrong," he had said. The first step on the road to redemption. It was such an absurd statement to come from his mouth that it's sincerity could not be denied.
"Then now do what is right." she had said, before reaching up to rip away his mask, dropping it to the ground.
He had nodded, and they had fought side by side, stunning, hexing, immobilising, but not killing, not killing. Until a Death Eater grabbed her from behind, no longer bothering to use magic, he had raised a vicious-looking dagger high in the air, intending to eviscerate her no doubt. She had squeezed her eyes shut, and time stood still as she waited for the pain, the blood, the blackness. But it never came.
"Avada Kedavra!"
She didn't see it strike, but felt the tingling, flooding cold of a life torn from its mortal vessel, she felt the painful grip ease and she could breathe again. The body behind her went limp, heavy, and toppled to the ground, like a puppet whose strings had been severed. Stumbling forwards, she turned in time to see her saviour drop to his knees, howling his anguish like a feral beast. Looking at the corpse at her feet, she stared, mesmerised as pale blond spilled out from under black. He had not hated his father, he had only hated Voldemort, but they were on opposite sides now and, ultimately, love wasn't strong enough.
She wasn't sure quite what happened next; she remembered holding him as he sobbed unashamedly into her tattered, mud bedaubed robes, she remembered an almighty explosion followed by an indeterminate length of eerie silence, and then gentle hands pulling them apart.
He had endured two years in Azkaban, the evidence of eyewitnesses that had seen the pair in action saved him from the Dementors Kiss, it even saved him from a life sentence. Nevertheless he had to be punished for his known crimes of corruption, bribery and coercion. Two years. She had visited him once, sometimes twice, a week, every week for those two years. She was his only female visitor. His mother had disowned him. Patricide was something that she could not forgive him for, not that he could even forgive himself. He had loved his father, he told her. Eventually, she persuaded him to see the reason behind his actions. He had saved her life, He had saved her from a painful and gory death at the hands of a man quite prepared to go to such lengths. He may have been his father, and they may have loved each other, but that did not change the reality of Lucius' crimes. Narcissa moved to Spain shortly after his sentencing, and as the last surviving Black descendant, she took the Black inheritance and Lucius's private fortune, leaving the remainder of the Malfoy estate, its millions of Galleons and business interests, its multiple properties and investments to Draco - the last of the Malfoy line. He'd not heard from her since.
Ginny had been there for him when he had been released, blinking, into the October sunshine. She had secretly helped him find a nice, big, unplottable flat in London, and taught him some rudimentary housekeeping spells. After that, she had continued to visit, bringing pots of casserole, soup or stew that her mother had left for her, sharing them with him over fresh-baked bread and velvet wines. If her mother had known how her culinary charity was being distributed, she would surely have left Ginny to her own devices.
Their relationship was complicated. They were, to all intents and purposes, friends, of a sort. But they were more than that, he had saved her life, there was a bond between them, something magical and unbreakable. They ate dinner together at least three days a week, sometimes there was talk, sometimes not. Companionship seemed to suit them quite happily until, by some unspoken compulsion, they had gone to each other in a fervour of desperate need, each giving the other solace. They had made love then, slowly, passionately, their bodies moving together in the sinuous rhythm of their emotion. They had climaxed together, bodies so entwined that neither knew where each ended and the other began, their tears of joy, pain, and absolution merging. Afterwards, they had lain together, holding each other silently until the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, and they had slept the sleep of the redeemed; deep, clean, refreshing.
That had been nearly three years ago, and here they were now, no closer to telling her family of their love, no closer to any sort of resolution. Then again perhaps they were looking in the wrong place.
So what did she want to do?
She wanted to marry Draco. She wanted to tell her family, she wanted them all to be happy.
She was happy with Draco. They made each other happy. But she loved her family, they made her happy too. So much happiness unacceptably compartmentalised.
"Let’s get married!"
"Do what?" he said, momentarily surprised by her blurted statement. "We already are. Eventually."
"That's not what I meant: I meant lets get married now!"
He stared at her slightly incredulously, before a rare smile crinkled the corners of his mouth.
"I can live with that."
"Me too. So it's decided then? We're getting married?"
"So it would seem."
She gave a little squeal of glee and threw her arms around him.
"Where are we going to go? It'll have to be Scotland, but I don't know of any wizarding chapels there."
"Funnily enough, neither do I having never needed one before. All we need is a qualified ministry official I think, and a witness or two."
"We could go to Hogwarts - Dumbledore is Supreme Mugwump and we could get a couple of teachers to witness - that way it'd be people we know."
"Hogwarts? Are you serious? I don't think I ever want to set foot there again! Unless of course it's to watch our children play Quidditch, obviously."
She blushed at his cavalier mention of children. They'd discussed it, occasionally, but never usually referred to the possibility of them actually existing.
"Can you think of somewhere better?"
"I suppose not," he said slowly.
"Well then, it's decided, so get dressed. I'm alright like this, I've got enough stuff here to last a couple of days and then I can pop home and get some more - maybe pop by the Burrow and spill the beans while I'm at it."
"Are you sure you're ready?"
"Best time really, now Ron's out of the way for a fortnight."
"Are we really going to do this?"
"Absolutely."
Harry stumbled down the stairs and into the kitchen, towelling his freshly-washed hair. Molly Weasley was humming happily to herself and cooking breakfast for the eight current inhabitants of the house: Harry, Ginny, Arthur, Fred, Angelina, George, Katie and herself.
"Morning Molly, have you seen Gin this morning?"
Molly smiled to herself at Harry's question.
"Good morning, dear. No, last I saw, she was still at the hall after the reception. I thought she came home with you, whenever that was."
"No, she was gone when Dobby woke me."
"Oh well, not to worry, she's probably still in bed."
"She isn't, that's why I asked. I knocked this morning to see if she wanted the loo before I used the shower and when there was no answer I got Fred to look in on her and she wasn't there. Her bed doesn't even look slept in."
Molly frowned, Ginny may be independent, but with all the wedding preparations, Harry, Ginny, Fred, George, Angelina and Katie had all been staying at the Burrow, since excessive travel was bad for women in Katie and Angelina's condition. Harry's house was undergoing renovation and Ginny had been central to much of the organisation.
"She might have gone home." Although in truth, Molly couldn't understand why - the entire family was due to arrive at the Burrow that afternoon and there was far too much to be done for Ginny just to bugger off back to London without explaining herself.
"Not according to the Clock."
The infamous Weasley Clock, infallible, unbreakable and never wrong.
Wiping her hands on her apron, Molly smiled tiredly at her surrogate son and went to look at the clock. Sure enough, Ginny's hand was pointing to 'Goodness knows where'. That meant that she had either made herself untraceable, or she was in an unplottable building. Molly was not overly concerned, her daughter knew how to look after herself and her hand had frequently moved to 'Goodness knows where' in the two years following the war. In fact, she'd disappeared on an almost weekly basis, but always came back.
"She's probably tired love," Molly said to Harry, "She'll be back later, maybe she just went for a bit of peace and quiet."
She woke first, wrapped in his warmth. She watched him sleep for a few minutes before reaching up and stroking his hair out of his eyes gently - a move almost guaranteed to wake him.
He shook his head gently and stirred, his eyelids fluttering open.
"Morning," she said brightly.
"M'ning," he mumbled, stretching lazily beside her before taking her in his arms again.
"Any regrets?" he asked.
"Nope."
"You know your family is going to beat me to a bloody pulp for this don't you?"
"Yep," she said, smiling beatifically.
"You don't have to look so pleased about it," he grumbled good naturedly.
"And why shouldn't I be pleased? No more hiding, remember?"
"I remember. As far as your family will be concerned, I stole your innocence and have probably inveigled you into marrying me. I'll be lucky to retain my masculinity once they get hold of me."
"Firstly, you didn't steal my innocence, I gave it to you. There's a difference. Secondly, there is no way on earth I can be inveigled into doing anything I don't want to - I made sure of that a long time ago. Thirdly, you're being dramatic, my brothers aren't that bad. Honestly, sometimes I wonder why I put up with you."
"Because you love me," he grinned cheekily, "and because I'm fantastic in bed."
"You forgot 'modest'," she laughed. "Anyway, who says you're fantastic? I don't recall saying any such thing. I sincerely hope you aren't choosing this most inauspicious moment to confess some torrid affair behind my back?" she questioned, with mock incredulity lacing her words.
"I don't recall 'Oh god, Draco, please', to be in any way indicative of displeasure," he said, trailing gentle kisses up and down her neck, making her shiver most agreeably.
"You're incorrigible, do you know that?"
"Uhn huh."
She sighed in satisfaction as his wandering hands and hot lips made short work of ridding the last traces of sleep from her body and mind. She was so relaxed - there was no better way to describe it. She realised that all the time they had been secretly engaged, she had been tense and edgy, their secret worrying at her mind and making her stressed. Now they were married it was as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders - she now had no choice but to tell her parents, and at the same time their marriage was concrete, solid, legally and magically binding, not to mention fully consummated. Smiling languorously and moaning softly, she arched her body into his touch and let her utter delight wash over her.
"Oh honestly where is that girl?" Molly Weasley huffed. They'd tried sending Hedwig out with a note, but she had returned an hour later, most disgruntled, and pecked Harry's hand as he removed the undelivered missive.
The guests would be arriving any minute and Ginny was nowhere to be found. Katie and Angelina had tried to help as much as they could but in their condition they were more a hindrance than anything else. Harry, as usual, played the dutiful son, fetching and carrying. Fred and George were predictably useless, and so Molly sent them off to pick up the Grangers from the hotel since Muggles would not, ordinarily, be able to find the Burrow.
"Ooo! When I get my hands on her I'm going to wring her neck!" Molly cried, exasperatedly. Harry had Flooed all her friends and some of her work colleagues and no one had seen her. Molly sighed, she had high hopes for Ginny and Harry, they'd looked so lovely together dancing at the reception. Molly secretly hoped that Ginny would abandon her frivolous insistence that she didn't need a man, and see what was right in front of her. She and Harry were perfect for each other.
They lay side-by-side, waiting for their breathing to return to normal, their fingers intertwined. He was studying her left hand, the ring finger of which bore the matching wedding band to her exquisite engagement ring.
"I'm sorry you missed out."
"What?" She was confused by his incongruous statement.
"You deserve so much better."
"What are you on about?"
"You deserved a big wedding, lots of celebration, bridesmaids and people fawning over you. You should have had a proper dress too, instead of having to make do with your bridesmaid dress." He nodded towards the crumpled pile of ivory fabric on the floor by the bed. "You deserve champagne, a cake and dancing, and I'm sorry you missed out."
"Oh, now you're being bloody ridiculous. I hate being the centre of attention, you know that. Did I ever say that I wanted a big wedding? Did I ever say that I wanted a cake and dancing? I'm happy with the way we did things. I love you, I wanted to marry you, we got married. End of story. No family rows, no drunken uncles, no sobbing mother, no violent Ron. It was perfect."
"What about the champagne and celebration?"
"We had champagne remember?" she cocked her head towards the empty bottle on her bedside table, "and celebration. We 'celebrated' three times, four if you count this morning!" She smirked at him lasciviously.
"Your mother's going to kill me though - I deprived her of organising the wedding of her life."
"Eurgh, she organised three of the six weddings of my brothers and believe me, it's TORTURE."
"I know, but you're her only daughter."
"Well my mother thinks I'm going to marry Harry," she snorted.
"She thinks you're going to marry Scarhead? Why? This isn't your turn for confessing sordid little secrets is it?"
She laughed. "No, but it's more-or-less a given in our household that when I get bored of playing 'Miss Independent', I'm going to settle down with Harry and raise a horde of children."
"Please, do me a favour and never mention You, Scarhead, and procreation in the same sentence ever again," he groaned. "One Potter is enough for the world thank you, and I don't intend to donate my wife to the cause of creating another one."
Laughing, she kissed him soundly and turned over to look at the time.
"Oh! Bugger me!" she cried.
"I don't think I've got the energy right now," he quipped.
She scrambled from the bed, giving him delicious flashes of her pert arse and firm breasts.
"It's not funny. Draco. I'm supposed to have been at home four hours ago - we've organised a post-wedding party. Oh god, my mother's going to kill me."
She raced towards the shower, tripping over her dress and colliding with a table, pulling it over and bringing a lamp and two potted plants crashing to the floor. His face appeared over the edge of the upturned table, a wry smirk gracing his lips.
"More haste, less speed, Ginny darling." Offering her his hand, he helped her up, undisguisedly admiring her total nakedness. "You've made yourself all dirty, Mrs Malfoy, and I consider it my spousal duty to rectify that immediately."
Grabbing a towel and her hand, he sauntered towards the bathroom, equally naked.
"You know, I'd be quite within my rights to charm that," he grumbled.
"What? My wedding ring?" she asked, as she tugged it off her finger. "Don't worry, I told you I was going to spill the beans today, I'm just going to do it in style," she said, smirking as she slipped her extravagant engagement ring onto her finger, followed by the matching wedding band. She still couldn't quite believe that he'd owned their wedding rings for over seven months during which time she'd not discovered them.
"There, how does that look?" she asked, holding out her hand for his approval.
"Perfect," he said, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing it gently. "Take care, Gin. I want you back with me tonight. If you're not home by midnight, I'll come and rescue you," he said, laughing.
Rolling her eyes good-naturedly, she sighed. "My family is hardly going to hold me prisoner when they discover that I eloped. They'll be more likely to disown me!"
"Never can tell with your brothers - and when they find out I'm a Malfoy, well I dread to think!" he exclaimed with mocking drama.
"I'll see you later. If all goes well, I might bring you a doggy bag."
"I can't wait," he muttered dryly as the echo of her disapparition bounced off of the walls.
The last guest had arrived twenty minutes ago, and there was still no sign of Ginny. Molly had gone from mad to angry to worried, but with so many guests to attend to, she failed to notice when Ginny's hand moved to 'Travelling'. She did, however, notice the pop of apparition in the hallway, and went to investigate.
"GINEVRA MOLLY WEASLEY WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?" Molly shrieked.
Ginny had the good graces to look abashed, her hands thrust in the pockets of her robes, her head bowed.
"I'm sorry, Mum," she mumbled, "I was with...a friend..."
"I don't care!" Molly cried, "You knew this was planned, you knew we needed you. Honestly! Well, now you're here you can make yourself useful! There are some sandwiches in the kitchen that need handing out."
Huffing angrily, Molly stomped off leaving Ginny standing in that hall, no closer to telling her mother the real reason for her absence. Not that Molly would have to hear everything, obviously.
Drawing her hands from the pocket of her robes, she looked down. The sleeves on her robes were nice and long and stopped just shy of her fingertips. Ginny was a little worried, she wanted to tell everyone, but wasn't quite sure how to go about it. Judging by her mother's behaviour, there would most likely be an almighty row, which was something that Hermione's parents didn't need to hear. Muggles they may be, but even they knew the significance of the name 'Malfoy' - after all, Hermione had been gravely injured by Lucius, and it had been touch-and-go as to whether she would retain the full use of her wand arm. Luckily the medic team had reached her in time.
She entered the kitchen to see pandemonium. Her various nieces and nephews were running around in circles screaming, Molly was looking hot and bothered, Fred and George had given the kids some sort of sweet that made their hair flash all the colours of the rainbow, and their mothers were nowhere in sight.
She saw Bill and Fleur's oldest two, Luc and Chantelle, Charlie and Tonk's twins, Samuel and Serena, and Percy's daughter Melissa, who appeared not to be having as much fun as her cousins. She knew she shouldn't, but the noise was so unbearable, that she whipped out her wand and cast a silencing charm on the gaggle of youngsters. Her mother looked scandalised.
"Ginevra, you can't silence them, they're children!"
Melissa appeared to be on the verge of tears and Samuel had taken to pinching his sister and laughing silently at her inaudible squeals of pain.
Raising her voice to grab their attention, Ginny yelled "ALRIGHT YOU LOT, OUTSIDE NOW!!!! AND APOLOGISE TO GRANDMA WEASLEY WHILE YOU'RE AT IT!" Casting the counter-charm to reverse the silence she had placed on them, she pointed towards the back door.
The kids looked slightly bashful as they shuffled outside, mumbling 'Sorry Nana Weasley, sorry Aunty Ginny," as they went.
When order had been restored, Ginny turned to her mother, "I'm sorry, Mum. I didn't mean to be so late. I just...forgot. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing and I just got caught up in it."
Molly's face softened. "Oh well, you're here now I suppose."
The rest of the afternoon progressed somewhat predictably into evening. Inevitably the mothers had rather too much punch, and by seven o’clock, the women had moved into the kitchen leaving the men talking Quidditch and plug sockets. Poor John Granger, any time he was within sight of Arthur Weasley, he was accosted and dragged out into the garden shed to give a detailed explanation of the function of a stapler or explain the use of those odd little spirals of metal that Muggles use in offices.
Now would be a very good time to tell them. Ginny thought, willing the words to form on her lips. But they refused. What could she say? 'Sorry to interrupt everyone, but I have an announcement to make. Last night I ran away to Hogwarts and married the son of this family's mortal enemy. More tea. Angelina?' She simply couldn't do it, not when they were all so happy. It would have to be soon though - before Ron got back, otherwise her chances for swaying her family's collective opinion diminished exponentially with every word that he would be likely to utter. Well, scream would probably be a more appropriate assessment of his likely reaction. He'd still not forgiven the Malfoy line in general for Hermione's near death experience. Although, she mused, if it hadn't been for Lucius trying to kill her, Ron and Hermione might never have got together, let alone engaged and married, so really, he should be grateful, in a roundabout sort of way.
Her mum was going to go ballistic.
Unbeknownst to Ginny, she had been absent-mindedly leaning her chin on the heel of her left hand, her elbow planted firmly on the table, and now her robes had begun to slide down her arm, exposing tens-of-thousands of Galleons-worth of engagement and wedding rings for all to see.
Ultimately, and ironically, it was Veronica Granger that spilled the proverbial beans, so to speak. Ginny had ended her musings and snapped out of her reverie just in time to hear the tail-end of what Hermione's mother was saying to the Weasley matriarch.
"...and of course you've another wedding in the family to organise, oh Molly you must be so proud."
"Another wedding?" Angelina asked, bemused.
"What wedding?" Molly asked, genuine confusion written across her face.
"Ginny's, of course. Who did you think I meant?" Veronica asked, looking as though she had suddenly realised that nobody knew.
"OH MY GOD!" Katie shrieked, grabbing the hand that Ginny hadn't been fast enough at moving. "Would you look at these rocks? Where on earth did you get them?"
"Rocks? What rocks?" Molly asked, bewildered.
Unceremoniously, Katie dragged Ginny's hand into the centre of the table and pinned it to the wood. For a heavily pregnant woman, she was surprisingly fast and freakishly strong.
There was dead silence for a few moments as each of the women took in the sight of the enormous, glittering cluster of gems. Jaws dropped. They seemed not to notice the matching wedding band half-hidden beneath it.
"Oh this is absurd," Molly stated, "clearly it's costume jewelry worn on the wrong finger. There's no way those are real. She's not even been seeing anyone."
Ginny flushed scarlet, both from embarrassment at her predicament, and with anger at her mother's snubbing of her glorious ring.
"Costume jewellery or not, I'd love to know where you got it Gin, it's gorgeous!"
"It's not costume jewellery," she snapped, yanking her hand back across the table. "And it's on the right finger," she muttered rebelliously, barely audible.
"Ginny," Molly demanded, her voice stern, "I suggest you explain immediately. Who gave you that? It must have cost a fortune. Was it Harry?" Molly looked slightly hopeful at the possibility.
She supposed the time for truth telling had come at last.
"No, Harry didn't give it to me. Yes, it did cost a fortune, and it was given to me by the man I love."
"Man you love?" Molly spluttered, "you've not been seeing anyone! How can you be in love?"
"Correction, I never told you I was seeing anyone."
"Why? I know you like your independence, Ginevra, but this is taking it to the extreme don't you think?"
"I didn't tell you for a reason. You wouldn't have approved and I wanted the chance to enjoy something for myself before you all interfered. To be honest, I never thought it'd get this serious, but I guess I was wrong. It did."
"Who is it, Ginny? I demand to know. Who on earth do you know that can afford to buy you something like that? If it's as genuine as it looks, then it must be worth more than this entire house..." Molly trailed off, the blood draining from her face. Her eyes widened in shock and she began to shake her head muttering "Oh gods no Ginevra, tell me you didn't?"
"Didn't what?" she retorted belligerently.
"Not that Malfoy boy? Please gods tell me you didn't, Ginny?"
"If you mean Draco, then yes, I did."
There was ringing silence. Her sisters-in-law and Veronica had been sitting in silence throughout the verbal volley exchanged by mother and daughter, but now every head turned towards her, shock and disappointment etched across their faces. Of course, the whole family knew about Ginny fighting side-by-side with Malfoy, and they knew that the pair of them had been found together, but they dismissed it as an 'any-port-in-a-storm' connection between the pair of them. Ron had even rationalised the 'clinging together' as being the result of mutual delirium in the face of victory. After he had been sentenced, life went back to normal. Ron stopped glaring at her, Percy stopped frowning in her direction and the awkward atmosphere that had hung in the air dissipated. They clearly thought that she would abandon him, that he was a brief connection forged in times of war and forgotten once life returned to normal.
"YOU DID WHAT?" Molly shrieked, bringing a gaggle of curious male relations to the kitchen door.
"Oh Ginny," Fleur gasped.
"Look, this really isn't the best time to be discussing this."
Her mother looked decidedly dangerous.
"BEST TIME? THERE'LL NEVER BE A BEST TIME, GINNY! YOU APPEAR TO BE ENGAGED TO A MALFOY!!!"
Ginny winced as her brothers stormed into the room, all starting to shout and yell at once, their threats and curses bouncing around the room like ping-pong balls.
"Actually," she said quietly, "I'm not engaged to him, we're married."
Luckily, her father was there to catch her mother as she fainted.
Looking at the angry faces of her family, she decided not to cause any more trouble. She could come back tomorrow, maybe drag Draco along with her and then they would see that he wasn't so bad. So, with a muttered 'Disapperesco', and a flourish of her wand, she Disapparated, the angry shouts of her family echoing in her ears.
She reappeared in his apartment, or rather, the apartment that was soon to become theirs once she had sorted everything out with her landlord. Not seeing him immediately, she tossed her cloak towards the stand, allowing the magicked object to catch it and hang it neatly, before wandering into the kitchen. She was torn between feeling elated that her secret was out in the open, and bursting into tears over the ruckus with her family. Opting for the latter, she plopped unceremoniously onto a chair and buried her face in her hands, letting her frustrated and angry tears pour down her face and drip onto her robes.
She felt his hands on her shoulders, warm and strong, a moment before he spoke. "I take it it didn't go well then," he said smoothly, his voice soothing.
"No. There was lots of shouting and Mother fainted."
"She fainted?" he asked, his voiced laced with incredulity.
"Oh yes, and Fred started yelling about you putting me under the Imperius curse, then George started on about 'having your soul for this'. Well, I just couldn't listen to it anymore. So I came home."
He said nothing for a while, kneading her shoulders gently with his fingers. She sighed with relief, and felt herself relax as the knots of tension dissipated under his skilled touch.
"Have you eaten?" she asked at length.
"I had Cheese on toast if that counts?"
"Did you cook it or magic it?"
"A bit of both."
"Meaning you tried to cook it, set fire to the bread, gave up and let the spell do the work."
"Pretty much. How did you guess?"
"Firstly, I know you, remember? Secondly, I'm sitting here staring at the scorch mark on the oven."
She heard him laugh, deep and throaty. It felt so surreal to be sitting there, knowing that she would never again have to leave him to return to her miserable tiny flat to a restless night of chilly solitude. At least he could afford to keep his apartment properly warm. Before she had begun to stay regularly, she had had to trade off between a warm bedroom and a hot bath. Usually the bath won. She couldn't believe they were finally married; it was enough to make her want to giggle with joy like a little girl, and hop around the room clapping her hands.
The previous night, in between their less coherent moments, they had agreed that his apartment was plenty big enough for the two of them, and that she would move in immediately. She would, of course, be breaking her rental contract with her landlord, but Draco had told her that he would take care of it. In other words, he would pay the man the remaining five months worth of rent up front to release her from the contract, in return for the landlords signature on an official solicitors agreement form stating that Ginevra Malfoy neé Weasley was no longer under any contractual obligation and that there were no outstanding debts. Well, it was something like that, and she could quite conceivably see the landlord being more than happy with the arrangement. Now, official joint occupation was just a case of transferring her scant belongings to his cavernous abode, and she couldn't wait.
"You know, we're going to have to go and see my parents tomorrow, I can't leave it like this." She felt his hands falter, and heard him breath deeply then sigh.
"I notice the use of the word 'we're', I assume that means me as well."
"I want them to meet you properly. I'm still sore at them for not thanking you after the war, and I want them to get to know you before making judgments on our relationship," she insisted.
He said nothing, but the resumption of his attention on her shoulders was indicative of his capitulation. He might be arrogant every now-and-again, and certainly snobby, but there were times when his noble and altruistic streaks shone through and she did love him for it.
Later on, as he lay sleeping, she studied his face. His noble blood had carved sharp features that, whilst not traditionally handsome, possessed a grace and elegance that gave him a beauty all of his own. His pale hair lay across the pillows in errant strands, reminiscent of the first time she had really seen the true him. She still wondered what it was that had prevented her from dropping him with a well placed stunner as he barrelled across the field towards her, and her sentimental streak often asserted that it had been his hair. Usually so neatly confined and restrained, the epitome of elegant perfection, his hair had been flying haphazardly, a perfect analogy for his changed allegiance. All pretence and posturing had been abandoned, and he had simply been a frightened teenager, not yet even fully a man, running from horrors that no one should have had to face. Perhaps she had seen his terror and helplessness and recognised some part of her own feelings mirrored in his eyes. Whatever the reason, providence had intervened and a bond was forged that day that only grew ever stronger.
Let tomorrow come, let her family say what they will, do what they will, because she knew that their love would survive it. If she was made to choose between him and her family, there was really no contest.
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