. . . . . .
That’s all the freedom we can hope for—the freedom to choose our prison. - L. M. Montgomery
. . . . . .
Draco went immediately up to bed when they reached the house, obviously worn out from reliving his grief. Ginny called a “good night” at his retreating back, and then once he was out of sight she went to the den, unable to face her room just then.
Being in that room reminded her of that first evening she’d spent at Malfoy Manor, when she and Draco had sat together in front of the fire, when she’d asked him why he’d joined the Order. Well, now she knew. Poor Draco! To come home to discover that one parent was dead and to believe that other was at fault! She looked back over all the time she’d spent with Draco in the Order and was heartily sorry for every time she’d complained about him, every time she’d argued with him, every time she’d found him staring into the fire with dead eyes but hadn’t thought to ask what was wrong because she hadn’t believed that he could have such deep feelings. She even remembered a time when she’d laughed at a snide comment Ron had made to Draco about his mother, and her face burned with shame. Then her mind turned to the end of her conversation with Draco, and her face burned for another reason.
How could she have fallen in love with Draco Malfoy? He was arrogant, he was rude, he was snide even to people he liked. He’d been a bully all through school and he still fought with her brother and Harry whenever he saw them. He’d been a terror in the war even when he was helping the Order. He was the son of a war criminal and a close friend of many Death Eaters. He’d lied to her and tricked her into making that oath to marry him and then he’d tried to manipulate her into keeping it. He’d insulted her and her family more times than she could count, and he was always convinced he was right and he was always leaving his shoes in the doorway of the cloakroom right where she’d trip over them and he was impossible to sleep with.
That reminded her of Switzerland, and the thought made her smile. She’d actually learned to sleep with him by the end, and really, he looked so . . . so human when he was asleep. And of course Switzerland was where they’d had their first dance, and where he’d told her he’d always be faithful to her, and where . . . she covered her face with her hands and groaned. She could list his faults all night long and she would never be able to talk herself of out caring for him. It was hopeless. She loved him and there was nothing she could do about it.
Love changed everything. Looking back over the past two months, Ginny could see so many hints, so many clues that led to up to this eventuality, like puzzle pieces that had no significance on their own but that, when seen in the light of her discovery, all fit together to show her that she’d been falling for him since that day she’d sworn an oath to marry him.
She remembered the Stewarts’ party, which was the first time she’d seen him interact normally with his peers, and how surprised she’d been to see how pleasant he could be and how highly they all thought of him. She thought about his awkward apology after their first fight, and the way she’d felt when she saw him walk into her parents’ backyard to stand by her side as she broke the news. And then there was the time he’d taken flowers to Hannah to apologize, not because Ginny had told him to but because he’d felt sorry for hurting her.
She remembered how much she’d enjoyed being with him in Switzerland, pretending to be in love to get Pansy to leave them alone, how they’d laughed together at the street fair, the awkwardness of their first dance. She thought about the way he’d defended her to Henri du Franchard, and the way her heart had pounded at the smile on his face as they danced that last waltz together. And she thought about his sorrow as he’d told her of the family tragedy, and how much her heart had ached as she realized that she wouldn’t always be there to comfort him. Yes, this had been creeping up on her for a long time and she’d been too blind to realize it.
But what could she do about it? Although she knew that Draco had come to feel much more for her than he had at the beginning of their marriage, she couldn’t fool herself into thinking that his regard for her was anything more than the platonic affection one felt for an old chum. And there didn’t seem to be much chance of him changing his mind; as confident as Ginny was in her own looks and personality, she knew she wasn’t as refined or sophisticated as the type of girls Draco had dated in the past.
She had a sudden vision of herself visiting high-end salons and clothing stores and coming out the elegant goddess who could attract Draco Malfoy with a single look, but she discarded that fantasy as soon as she thought of it. Draco would know something was up if she came home looking like one of the French models at the Ministry ball, and the one thing she was suddenly perfectly sure of was that Draco couldn’t know how she felt for him- not yet, anyway. To say something now would make everything terribly awkward between them, and she might lose her chance forever.
It was better to wait, to observe the situation and see if Draco- a bitter smile twisted her lips suddenly- to see if Draco might ever give a pushy little nobody like me a chance. She leaned her head back against the armchair and closed her eyes for a long moment, then left the den and went wearily up to bed.
When she went downstairs the next morning, Ginny was afraid things were going to be strange between them, and not only because when he walked into the entry hall and said her name softly she suddenly wanted to kiss him senseless. No, it was also because she knew only too well that Draco never said anything about himself that would leave him vulnerable, but for some reason he had changed that policy last night. She was afraid he would regret having said so much to her.
Fortunately he seemed to be thinking just the opposite. If anything, he was more relaxed than she usually saw him. It appeared that he felt their heart-to-heart had brought them closer: he chatted warmly with her for a few minutes, and when she told him Hermione had owled her early and asked her to come over, he chivalrously helped her on with her jacket.
It wasn’t exactly true that Hermione had asked her to come over. Actually, the message had stated:
Ginny,
Ron and I would like to see you. Is there a time we could come over?
Ginny’s response had been swift, driven by the sudden feeling that Hermione, who knew her better than almost anyone, would immediately sense that something was amiss if she saw the Malfoys together now, when Ginny’s feelings for Draco were still so raw and new.
Hermione,
Actually, I’m going out this morning anyway. How about I stop by your place?
Now she just needed a reason to go out.
But Draco didn’t know that, so she smiled and stood stock still as he helped her into her jacket and brushed her hair back so it wouldn’t get caught in the zipper. She smiled weakly at him and Apparated away quickly, stopping just outside Hermione’s so she could catch her breath and collect herself. Draco’s actions in the cloakroom had nearly been her undoing. She knew he didn’t mean anything particular by it- she’d seen him do the same thing for Elise and even Calliope- but that hadn’t stopped her from catching her breath when she’d felt his hands on her hair. With a groan at her own stupidity, she turned and resolutely knocked on Hermione’s door.
Hermione answered almost immediately, a smile on her face, but she wouldn’t say anything as she invited Ginny in. “I decided to make breakfast when I heard you were coming,” she said brightly.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Ginny replied immediately. “I didn’t mean to give you extra work-”
“Don’t be silly,” Hermione said brightly. “I found this book on enchanting omelets that I’ve been dying to try out.” As they reached the kitchen, she paused and looked at Ginny, her expression suddenly uncertain. “I’ve been feeling sorry that I didn’t invite Draco,” she said. “I was just worried that with Ron being here-”
“It’s all right,” Ginny chuckled. “Draco’s a big boy. He’ll survive without me.” Hermione smiled in relief and disappeared into the kitchen, and Ginny, preparing to follow after, thought with a self-deprecatingly amused smile how true that statement probably was.
In the apartment’s tiny kitchen she found Ron, and the Weasley siblings greeted each other warmly. It was the first time in a long time that Ginny had seen him without Draco present, and her husband’s absence made Ron visibly more relaxed. They chatted comfortably a while, and finally, after their omelets had been brought out and the group was sitting on the balcony eating, the smiling couple sitting across from Ginny got around to telling her their real reason for wanting to see her.
“We were over at Mum and Dad’s with most of the family last night,” Ron said, “and we tried to Floo you, but your house elf said you’d left.”
“After dinner?” Ginny asked with a laugh. “I’m sorry you missed me- I was just out back, taking a walk on the grounds.” And falling in love with the man you hate.
Ron shrugged with a smile. “Bad timing, then.”
Hermione leaned in closer to him, though her eyes were still on Ginny. “But you’re here now, so . . .” She put her left hand out over the table so Ginny could see the glint of silver on her fourth finger. “Ron and I are getting married.”
“Congratulations,” Ginny laughed, standing so she could hug her friend and her brother. “No two people deserve each other more than you do.”
“You know, you don’t seem very surprised by our announcement,” Hermione observed as she pulled away from the fray so Ginny could hug Ron properly.
“Are you kidding?” Ginny demanded, turning to face her friend. “I’ve known you two would get married since you were thirteen years old.”
The engaged couple both turned bright red.
“There’s an engagement party next Friday at the Burrow,” Hermione said once their little group had pulled apart and Ginny was sitting on the other side of the table again. “And-” she glanced at Ron, who had a long-suffering expression on his face, and he gave a very small, very reluctant nod- “And we’d love to have you bring Draco along.”
“Really?” Ginny asked, unable to keep the surprise out of her voice. It had been a long time since anyone in her family had reached out to Draco, and, by extension, to her. She knew her family would never purposefully exclude her from family gatherings, but she couldn’t help but feel that she’d seen them precious little since her wedding, and she was quite sure it was because they didn’t entirely know how Draco fit into their tight-knit family unit- or if he even wanted to try.
“Of course,” Hermione responded, immediately picking up on the twinge in Ginny’s voice. “Ginny, about Draco . . . I’m sorry about the way we all act about him.”
Ginny smiled, but her reply was cut off when Ron unexpectedly spoke. “She’s right,” he said hesitantly, and both women looked at him in surprise. “Draco is-” he paused, clearly struggling with the words- “Draco is your husband, and we haven’t done right by him. By either of you.” He smiled tightly at his sister. “And we’re really sorry.”
At his words, Ginny found herself smiling quietly. “Thanks,” she said softly. “I appreciate that. And we’d love to come on Friday.” And they all went back to their meal, Ginny marveling at Ron’s sudden maturity and Hermione casting openly admiring looks at her fiance.
When the meal was done, Ginny embraced Ron and Hermione one last time and congratulated them again. As the pair walked her to the door, Hermione asked, “What else did you have to do this morning?”
“Visit Neville,” Ginny said immediately, because it was the first thing that came to mind. Fortunately he lived not far from Hermione, so it was a plausible answer. “I haven’t seen him for a while, so I thought . . .”
“Would you mind if we came with?” Hermione asked brightly. “We haven’t told him yet.”
So the group Apparated to Neville’s apartment, appearing with a pop that caused Colin Creevey, just coming out of the front door, to jump in fear and drop his wand. “You nearly gave me a heart attack!” he said, grabbing the wand that Ron, sniggering, had picked up for him. “What are you all doing here?”
“We’re looking for Neville,” Hermione said. “Is he home?”
Ginny fully expected Colin wouldn’t know- the man was a bit scatter-brained and usually didn’t know what anyone else was up to, even his own roommate- so she was surprised when he answered brightly, “I’m going to meet him right now. Care to come with?”
So the four wizards walked down the block together to the nearby park, where a small crowd had gathered around a football field. “Dean Thomas is playing this morning- you know, that city league he’s in- and he wanted us to come watch,” Colin explained. “They call their team the Wizards- they think they’re clever, you see, because they are wizards, mostly Muggle-borns who never really liked Quidditch, plus a few nutters who just like Muggle sports.”
They found Neville down near the Wizards’ goal, sitting on a bench with a dark-haired girl who looked vaguely familiar. When Colin called Neville’s name, both he and the girl turned toward them and stood up. “Ginny, Ron, Hermione, I didn’t expect to see you three,” Neville smiled. “What are you doing here?”
As Hermione explained how they’d ended up at the game, Ginny examined Neville. He was looking well, she decided, and happy, too; he was normally so quiet and reclusive, but this morning he was smiling comfortably. She wondered if the girl he was with had something to do with it; the hand she had on his arm did seem somewhat more than friendly.
She didn’t have to wait long to find out. “So,” Colin said in his usual brash way, “is this that girl you’ve been seeing?”
The girl smiled shyly as Neville responded, “Yes, this is who I wanted you to meet. Everyone, this is Morag MacDougal. You might remember her from Hogwarts.”
“Of course,” Hermione smiled. “Ravenclaw, right? I remember in Charms class once, you cast the most impressive Gubraithian fire spell. I was so jealous.”
“Only you would remember something like that, Herm,” Ron said fondly.
“I’m flattered you remember, Hermione,” Morag said in a soft but genuine voice, and Ginny knew instinctively that she was going to like this girl.
Neville smiled at Morag and then motioned to the rest of the group. “And this is my roommate, Colin Creevey, and you might remember Ron Weasley- he was in our year- and this is his little sister Ginny Weasley, now Ginny Malfoy.” Morag’s eyes widened in surprise, but she said nothing, for which Ginny was grateful.
Colin looked at Hermione. “So what did you need to come down here for?”
The happy couple smiled in that slightly bashful way that Ginny had often seen on her married siblings’ faces, and something in her chest twinged in response. She found she couldn’t even listen to Ron and Hermione as they announced their news; their happiness only served to remind her of everything she didn’t have. Instead she found herself staring at Hermione’s ring. Hermione had a tiny silver band, no diamonds, and she was the happiest woman in the world. Ginny had the most beautiful ring she’d ever seen, and what did she have? Nothing. Not love, not family, not any hope of a future with Draco. She bit the inside of her lip and forced herself to push those thoughts aside.
“Congratulations!” Colin was saying, shaking Ron’s hand exuberantly, while Neville and Morag spoke to Hermione is quieter but no less warm tones.
“And you all must come to the engagement party on Friday,” Hermione said. “And we’d love it if you could come, Morag.” Morag blushed.
“Can I bring Romilda?” Colin asked.
Ron and Hermione both froze, false smiles plastered across their faces, and it was a tribute to Hermione’s good manners that she managed to say politely, “Of course you can bring Romilda.”
As the Wizards suddenly scored a goal, Ginny seized the opportunity to remark to Ron under the replying roar of the crowd, “Don’t worry; she’s improved since Hogwarts.” Ron looked immensely relieved.
It was decided that they would all stay and watch the game so that Ron and Hermione could talk to Dean afterwards. The group moved to the bench Neville and Morag had been on and found seats, and the talk soon turned to old acquaintances.
“I hear Ernie Macmillan’s getting married,” Colin said.
“To Hannah Abbot, of course,” Hermione replied. “We certainly saw that one coming. And I hear Seamus Finnigan’s gotten quite serious about a girl.”
“Yes, I’ve heard,” Ginny grinned.
“You were there, weren’t you?” Neville asked. “The whole Switzerland thing?” He laughed. “Apparently that one worked out well for Pansy Parkinson. A girl at work said she saw her at a restaurant with some German fellow.”
“Not Jens Reichmann the third?” Ginny gasped, choking back laughter. “Good girl, Pansy. Good girl.”
As the good-natured banter went on, Morag, sitting next to Ginny, suddenly spoke. “So, Mrs. Malfoy-”
“Please, call me Ginny.”
“Of course.” Morag smiled. “I was just wondering about your last name. Is it-”
“Draco Malfoy? Yes, that’s my husband.”
“How did that happen? I mean, I remember him always fighting with your brother-” She paused, looking chagrined. “I’m sorry. Is that too forward?”
“No, it’s all right,” Ginny replied, smiling. “Most people wonder the same thing.” She shrugged. “I would never have expected us to end up together, either, but we’ve both changed a lot since school.” A glance over at her brother, and then: “But Ron still hasn’t really accepted him.”
“I’m sorry,” Morag said softly.
“It’s all right,” Ginny laughed. “We’re working on it.”
“Draco was in the Order of the Phoenix, wasn’t he?” Morag asked, glancing around covertly as though expecting Death Eaters to be spying on them from behind the trees.
“He was,” Ginny said proudly.
“That was very brave of him.” She paused. “I’m glad he’s found you.”
“Thanks,” Ginny said warmly. “And I could say the same thing about you and Neville. He’s been a good friend for a long time, and I’m glad he’s so happy right now.” She’d been worried about Neville since she’d heard that Colin was dating Romilda. With one best friend married and the other in a serious relationship, where did that leave Neville? But now he’d found someone.
“Thank you,” Morag said, and Ginny saw Neville, sitting on the other side of her, take her hand and rub it gently. The simple gestured made that twinge in her chest return.
She was happy for him, of course, so happy that she ached for it. But at the same time it added to the burden that she carried in her heart: Neville had found love, Ron and Hermione were to be married, Elise and James were beginning a family together, and where was she? Trapped in a marriage with a man who did not love her back.
. . . . . .
Ginny had changed somehow. Draco couldn’t really pinpoint how or why, but he was sure things were different, in some way that hovered at the back of his mind so he couldn’t help thinking about it. The question lingered all throughout the workweek, and it wasn’t until he was at work on Friday that he realized what it was: she’d stopped touching him.
Of course, it wasn’t like they were a real couple who usually cuddled and held hands, but he’d gotten used to the fact that she usually wasn’t afraid of physical contact. In fact it was one of the first things he’d noticed about her: that she often used tactile communication, whether she was touching his arm comfortingly or giving him a black eye.
But in the past week she’d stopped entirely. She didn’t appear to be mad at him, because she was still as good-humored as ever, but she’d stopped hitting his arm playfully when they had their good-natured quarrels. He still went into her room most nights to talk before they went to sleep, but she no longer leaned her head against his knee. Looking back, the last time he could remember her voluntarily making contact with him was the night he’d told her how his mother died, when she’d leaned against him comfortingly.
And that, he thought with a sinking feeling, might be the source of the problem. Maybe she hadn’t minded being friendly with him when she hadn’t known the whole story, but now that she knew the pathetic details of his life she was pulling away from him.
It was a disconcerting thought. Her words from that first day they’d spent as husband and wife echoed in his head: “I should be the one person- and this should be the one place where you’re always safe.” She seemed to have meant it then, meant that she wouldn’t judge him for his past or his family, but maybe she’d changed her mind when she heard about how weak the Malfoys really were and how Voldemort had managed to destroy the family completely, how the Dark Lord’s “glorious cause” had killed off Draco’s parents one by one and left him entirely alone. He wished he hadn’t told Ginny about his mother. He hadn’t actually talked to anyone about Narcissa since her funeral, and he hadn’t meant to start with Ginny, but something about her invited confession and promised solace. And he’d given in and revealed the family’s dark secrets. He couldn’t blame her if she was disgusted by the family she’d married into. He’d be hurt, but he couldn’t blame her.
Draco quickly quashed that line of thought. He would not be hurt by her. What did her opinion matter, really? It wasn’t a real marriage. It was two people playing house to fool everyone around them, and it had been doomed to end in divorce before it had even begun. It didn’t matter what Ginny thought of his family as long as she kept up her end of the bargain.
But he still wished he hadn’t told her.
On Friday they went to Ron and Hermione’s engagement party at the Burrow. At any previous point in his life, Draco would have shuddered at the thought of spending the evening at the Burrow, celebrating the impending nuptials of a Muggle lover and a Muggleborn. But something had changed. When he thought about it, he supposed he felt he had something to prove to Ginny. He couldn’t say what it was, but it made him greet her parents with exquisite politeness when he and Ginny arrived at the party.
Molly and Arthur both looked shocked, but to their credit, they recovered quickly and greeted him warmly. Arthur asked Draco about his work at the Ministry of Magic, and Molly asked whether he was taking care of her little girl.
“Mum!” Ginny said plaintively, reddening a little. “Of course Draco’s taking good care of me, and before you ask, yes, we’re very happy.”
Surprised at the sudden warmth that spread through him at those words, Draco followed Ginny on to the next group of people to meet, but not before he’d waved jovially over his shoulder at her parents.
“I like them,” he announced. Ginny seemed to be studiously avoiding his gaze, but when she thanked him there was true gratitude in her voice.
Next they talked with Fred and Angelina, whose wedding, Draco vaguely recalled, was within the next few months. They were perfectly suited for each other, he decided: both were good-natured, easy-going, and very witty. He enjoyed talking with them a great deal.
“Why weren’t we invited to their engagement party?” Draco demanded in a whisper as he and Ginny moved away.
“They didn’t have one,” Ginny chuckled. “Fred said if he was going to have a party it’d better involve Firewhisky, and Mum nearly had a heart attack, and Angelina came in and smoothed it over and said she’d rather put that money toward the wedding.”
Draco, looking around at the Burrow, thought that if any money saved by not having a meager party such as the one he was presently at could appreciably affect Fred and Angelina’s wedding budget, then their wedding was going to be a very modest affair. But he didn’t say that. Instead, he said, “Remind me that we need to send them an engagement present, too, then.”
Ginny beamed at him, apparently still amused at his insistence about the giving of engagement presents. When he’d found out earlier that week that Ron and Hermione were engaged, the first thing he’d done, of course, was make several snide comments, mostly about Ron, which made Ginny stick out her tongue at him. But the second thing he’d done was to send an owl to Johann Schiller, a jeweler and glass blower in Germany. He explained to Ginny that it was a long-standing Malfoy family tradition to give Schiller mirrors as engagement presents to family members and close friends. Ginny had shrugged and acquiesced, remarking only that Salazar Slytherin must be rolling over in his grave to hear Draco Malfoy referring to Ron and Hermione as his family.
The Malfoys talked to Bill and Fleur then, and then with Seamus and Calliope. Draco found himself quite relieved to see Seamus there. He was beginning to believe that he wouldn’t know anyone at the party- unless one counted antagonizing and throwing hexes at someone as “knowing them,” which Draco really didn’t- and he immediately fell into conversation with his co-worker.
After a few minutes, the line to greet the happy couple had dwindled, and Ginny led Draco across the room to where Ron and Hermione were sitting, gazing at each other in a loving way that made didn’t make Draco as ill as he’d expected it would. “You came!” Hermione cried when she saw the Malfoys approach, and Draco felt sure that her surprise came from seeing him there. He had been rather shocked himself when Ginny had told him that he’d been invited.
But if Hermione was surprised to see him, she hid it well. After hugging Ginny tightly, she moved on to Draco; he waited to see if she’d dare try to hug him, but all she did, after a brief hesitation, was to take one of his hands in both of hers and say sincerely, “Thank you for coming.”
He had always tolerated Hermione better than either of her two friends, so he smiled. “Thank you for inviting me. And congratulations.”
Hermione gave a pleased smile and opened her mouth as though to continue, but just then Ron finished his conversation with Ginny and turned to Draco. Hermione fell silent and released Draco’s hand, and both she and Ginny watched breathlessly as their significant others faced each other. The look in Ron’s eye was hard and wary, and Draco was tempted to say something snide, as his rival was no doubt expecting him to do. At the last moment, however, he remembered that he was an invited guest, so instead of insulting Ron he extended his hand at just the same moment that Ron did the same. And slowly, reluctantly, the old enemies shook hands.
“Congratulations,” Draco said.
“Thanks,” Ron replied.
And that was all, but from the looks on Ginny’s and Hermione’s faces, it was enough.
Remembering his and Ginny’s conversation from earlier, Draco reached into his pocket then and pulled out a small box wrapped in white paper. A tap from his wand restored it to its original size, and he handed it to Hermione. “Happy engagement.”
“This is really heavy,” Hermione said, lifting the box up and down. “What is it?”
“Open it and see,” Ginny suggested. She had seen the mirror when it had been delivered and had immediately declared that it was absolutely beautiful and that Hermione was going to love it.
Hermione glanced at Ron, who shrugged, then sat down with the box balanced on her knees and began carefully untaping the paper. Draco, watching with amusement, reflected that he might have something in common with his future sister-in-law after all. The Weasley siblings, in contrast, both looked impatient as they waited for Hermione to finish.
Finally the paper was off and Hermione lifted the lid of the box, moved the tissue paper out of the way, and then gasped as she lifted the mirror out of the box. “Ginny, Draco, this is beautiful,” she said, running a finger down the ornate gold frame.
“Apparently they’re a Malfoy family tradition,” Ginny replied with a laugh.
Draco explained, “It’s enchanted to show anyone who’s been put into the spell, no matter where they are. My grandmother always said that they’re good for keeping track of children.”
Hermione’s eyes widened. “Is this a Schiller mirror?”
Draco nodded. “The original Schiller died, but his son still makes them in Germany.”
Ron seemed somewhat impressed by the mirror, but Hermione was still staring at it in shock. “Draco,” she said, “these are really expensive. I mean, really, really expensive.”
Draco shrugged, mildly uncomfortable. Of course it was expensive, but for most of his friends and relatives, a gift like this was normal, even expected. He wasn’t used to people being as surprised by his generosity as Hermione seemed to be, so it was quite a shock to him when she handed the mirror carefully to Ginny and then threw her arms around him. “Thank you,” she said.
“You’re welcome,” Draco replied, very uncomfortably, one hand coming up to awkwardly pat her on the back.
“You can stop now,” Ron said loudly.
“That might be best,” Draco agreed, carefully extracting himself from Hermione’s embrace.
“I’m glad to see you two agreeing with each other,” Ginny said dryly as Ron slipped a protective arm around his fiancee’s waist. Their small group talked for a few moments more, and then the Malfoys excused themselves. Draco followed Ginny to the kitchen, but not before he noticed with great amusement that Hermione was carefully, almost lovingly putting the mirror back in its enchanted box.
Ginny glanced back to see what he was looking at. “How expensive was that mirror?” she asked as Draco followed her into the kitchen and shut the door.
Draco didn’t answer for a moment, too busy marveling at the tiny size of the kitchen. But at least it was empty except for him and Ginny, and he could have a moment to himself away from the crowds of Weasleys. “Somewhat expensive, I suppose, but I’ve never had anyone react like that before. I hope Ron isn’t going to hex me now.”
“He didn’t look pleased,” Ginny laughed, grabbing a plate and filling it with fruit. “It looks like even when you’re not trying to, you upset my brother.” She was quiet a moment. “So you give those out to everyone you know?”
“Only those we’re close to. James and Elise have one in their front hall. You’ve never noticed it?”
Ginny shrugged and shook her head. “Does the Manor have one?”
“Gift from my grandparents,” Draco replied, nodding his head. “It’s in my mother’s favorite sitting room, near the dining room. I never go in there anymore. It-” this felt very personal, but this was Ginny, after all, his Ginny, and if anyone would understand it was her- “it just reminds me too much of her.”
She nodded and took the cup of punch he had just filled for her- with no ice cubes, as he knew she liked it- and took a sip, her brow furrowed as though she was in thought. “So if it shows where you are at any given time,” she said, “why did your father never look in it and realize that you were in the Order of the Phoenix?”
“There’s a spell you use to make people visible to the mirror, and that person has to actually take part in the casting- it’s a precaution against people using it to spy on others. Before I left, I ended the spell that made me visible to the mirror, so my father couldn’t see me through it.”
Ginny handed him a plate of strawberries, his favorite, and nodded thoughtfully. “So now your mirror is just gathering dust?”
Draco shrugged. “I thought about pulling it out when I moved back home, but I had no family and there was no one else I cared to keep an eye on.”
He paused. The next statement was obvious. He should tell her that when they got home, he was going to pull it out and they could both cast the spell and they would always know how to find each other, just like a proper family. But then a sudden, horrible thought plagued him- what if she said no? So he didn’t say anything, and she didn’t say anything. They just looked at each other, and it wasn’t until George and Hannah entered the kitchen that either Malfoy moved.
Hannah greeted both Draco and Ginny with exuberant hugs, scolding them all the while for not visiting. George was nearly as effusive as his wife; apparently he’d forgiven Draco entirely for the anti-Muggle charm incident. After that, Ginny wanted to talk to the rest of the party, and Draco patiently tagged along as she chatted with Charlie and his wife, Luna Lovegood, Lavender Brown, and even Hermione’s Muggle parents.
Draco very nearly drew the line right there. Deciding not to join Voldemort in killing Muggles was one thing, but socializing with them was an entirely different affair. He tried to come up with some way to excuse himself, but by then Ginny was already halfway across the room toward them and to walk away from her side now, when everyone could see them, would make both of them look bad. So he dutifully followed her to speak with the Grangers and actually found them to be decent sorts- for Muggles, of course.
The rest of the evening carried on in much the same way. Draco talked at length with Seamus and Calliope and Hannah; he played catch in the backyard with Bill’s little girls; and he dutifully greeted every person Ginny introduced him to, though he didn’t even bother to try to remember names because he was sure he’d never see half of these people again. He was impressed with how Ginny remembered so many people- not only names, but things they cared about or things that were happening in their lives. Everyone who spoke to Ginny left smiling. Draco spent much of the evening watching her fondly as she made the rounds to greet everyone.
To his surprise, the evening was generally significantly more pleasant than he’d thought it would be. The only thing that marred his good mood was the late arrival of three young adults, one of whom was Neville Longbottom and two of whom looked vaguely familiar to Draco. He had to ask Luna, who’d roped him into a conversation about the medicinal properties of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans, who they were. She explained that they’d all gone to Hogwarts and been in his year. The girl was Morag MacDougal and the tall, handsome man was Dean Thomas.
“I think Ginny’s mentioned him,” Draco commented to Luna.
“It makes sense,” Luna said serenely. “They dated her fifth year. I think he’s the only ex-boyfriend that she keeps in touch with.”
“Why does she keep in touch with him?” he asked abruptly, his good mood suddenly gone.
“Perhaps because he lives in London. Or perhaps because they always have gotten along so well. But I think it’s nice that they can still be friends, don’t you agree?” Luna replied, looking over at where Ginny was greeting Dean with a hug.
She said something else, but Draco wasn’t really listening at that point, staring instead at his wife and her ex-boyfriend. It was ridiculous, a small part of him knew, especially considering the fact that he’d recently spent a week in the same house as his ex-girlfriend, but the feeling in his stomach remained. He wanted to walk over there and say-
“Mr. Malfoy!” came a rather proper voice suddenly, derailing his train of thought.
Draco turned. “Professor Lupin,” he said politely, though they’d been Draco and Remus to each other during the war.
“I understand you’ve married our Miss Weasley,” his old teacher said. “Congratulations. She’s a wonderful girl.”
“Thank you. And yes, she is,” Draco responded without thinking. Remus studied him a long moment and was about to speak when a the owner of a head of pink hair appeared behind his left shoulder and threw a pair of slender arms around him.
“I’ve been looking all over- wotcher, Draco!”
“Hello, Tonks,” Draco said dutifully. His cousin had tried, during Draco’s time in the Order, to improve family relations, but Draco’s reluctance and reticence had hampered her efforts a great deal. Still, the experience had served to remind Draco that the Tonkses were the only family he had left, so he tried to be civil whenever he saw Tonks, which he took pains to ensure happened as rarely as possible.
“I heard about you and Ginny,” Tonks continued. “I was gobsmacked, I don’t mind telling you. Absolute last thing I expected.”
“Nymphadora,” Remus said, a note of reprimand in his voice.
“It’s all right,” Draco shrugged. “It’s the absolute last thing I expected, too.”
“So why didn’t we get a wedding announcement or anything?” Tonks demanded.
Draco supposed that she was thinking that Ginny ought to have sent the Lupins an announcement, because she was daft if she thought he would ever have sent her one. “No one got one,” he shrugged. “We eloped.”
“But don’t worry,” came Ginny’s voice from behind him. “You would have gotten one if anyone had.”
Draco turned to see his wife approaching, accompanied by her parents, and he felt a sudden rush of pleasure at seeing her standing by his side and not talking with that ex-boyfriend of hers. The Malfoys exchanged smiles, and Draco said, “It just all happened so quickly. There was really no time for anything like that.”
“Yes, it’s a pity your wedding did happen so fast,” Molly said with a sigh. Then she perked up. “But can you believe this? My last three children, all married in the same year. We should get a new family portrait taken.”
Draco had to stifle a snort of laughter at the thought of his picture hanging in the Burrow. But then he thought about that picture being obsolete within a year; after all, he would not be in the Weasley family for long. He wondered if Ginny was thinking of the same thing. He wondered if it made her sorry. He wondered why the thought suddenly made him feel very alone. And with all of these thoughts running through his head, he was very glad when Charlie suddenly came to tell his parents goodbye and he and Ginny could excuse themselves.
They stood in awkward silence for a moment, and then Ginny spoke. “Thank you for coming. I know this isn’t anything like as fancy as you’re used to.”
Draco shrugged uncomfortably. He didn’t want Ginny to think he looked down on her for her humble upbringing. But if she did think so, he had no one to blame for himself, because until very, very recently, looking down on her for her family and past was exactly what he had done. But that was more than he knew how to explain, so after a moment he said only, “You’re welcome.”
“Ginny,” Molly said suddenly, coming up behind them, “could you do me a favor and run this chair up to your old room? I brought it down for the party but it looks like we’re about done down here.”
Draco looked around as Molly handed the chair, shrunk for convenience, and realized that his mother-in-law was right: everyone was leaving. He had survived an entire evening with the Weasley family. And in truth, it hadn’t been as bad as he’d been expecting. He smiled, very impressed with himself, and then decided to accompany Ginny on her errand.
“Are you sure?” she asked as they mounted the stairs.
“Why not?” Draco shrugged. “Seeing your room could be educational. It could lend me insight into how you became the Muggle-loving saint you are today.”
“I think I’m going to take that as a compliment,” she laughed, and opened the door to a tiny bedroom on the third floor.
“This is it?” Draco asked, looking around the room in shock. “I can see why you were so impressed by my nursery.”
“Yes, but growing up in these circumstances, I’m sure you can see why I grew up to be so down-to-earth and well-adjusted.”
“And cocky, apparently.”
“Well, of course cocky,” she replied. She led him to the far wall, through a curtained door, and onto a tiny balcony. There was barely room for the two of them to stand side by side.
“I used to spend so much time out here,” Ginny said reminiscently. “It was the only place I could be alone.” It was too dark to see her face, but from her voice Draco was sure she was smiling, and it made him smile. She seemed so content, so peaceful. That seemed to be her gift in life: the ability to find happiness in any situation.
And her habitual good nature seemed to be rubbing off on him. Life had been different lately. It was calmer, steadier, happier. He’d been happy as a child, of course, but for a long time now his life had been unsettled at best, and at times quite unhappy. It had been some ten years ago that his life had begun, very slowly, to change. It was then that he began to worry about the threat of war with Lord Voldemort- or was it then that he began to understand the true nature of Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy’s ideals?- and that was when everything began to feel different.
This discontent had plagued him for some time, until finally, spurred on by his mother’s death, he joined the Order of the Phoenix. He’d felt better about himself, then, but he also found a whole new set of worries: what his father would do if he found out that Draco was living in the old Black house and secretly helping the Order. Of course, he needn’t have worried; Lucius died before he ever discovered that his son was not, as he claimed, out of the country to flee the war
This didn’t make Draco feel any better, though, and in the time since the war’s end, he’d discovered that some dark, lonely nights stretched on far too long. But it was different now. Perhaps it was having someone to talk to, or perhaps it was the fact that this someone was so warm and caring, but Draco was happy again. He smiled down at Ginny again. He never wanted this moment to end. A frown suddenly crossed his face. He wanted the moment to never end, and he wanted Ginny not to leave. It was such a strange thought that he pushed it back into the depths of his mind and concentrated simply on the sound of the wind in his ears.
“It could have been worse,” he said suddenly.
“What could have been?” Ginny asked.
“This. Us. I mean, of all the people I could have married, I was lucky enough to choose someone that I’ve come to really like.”
“Really?” she asked, sounding almost shy. “Thank you.”
And then, without thinking, he was putting his arm around her shoulder and pulling her into a lopsided hug, hampered by the rails of the tiny balcony. She relaxed immediately into his embrace and the Malfoys stood together in something like wedded bliss for a brief moment. Draco would have held on to Ginny longer but he suddenly felt unwell, a feeling that disappeared when he released her. It seemed strange, but then, he’d eaten an entire plate of shortbread at the party. So he shrugged it off and stared up at the stars, content simply to be with his wife.
“Thanks again for putting up with my family,” Ginny said after a moment.
“We all have to face trials in this life,” Draco shrugged, and Ginny elbowed him. That made him smile. Things had been strange between them that week, but if she was back to elbowing him, they were going to be all right.
. . . . . .
That’s all the freedom we can hope for—the freedom to choose our prison. - L. M. Montgomery
. . . . . .
Draco went immediately up to bed when they reached the house, obviously worn out from reliving his grief. Ginny called a “good night” at his retreating back, and then once he was out of sight she went to the den, unable to face her room just then.
Being in that room reminded her of that first evening she’d spent at Malfoy Manor, when she and Draco had sat together in front of the fire, when she’d asked him why he’d joined the Order. Well, now she knew. Poor Draco! To come home to discover that one parent was dead and to believe that other was at fault! She looked back over all the time she’d spent with Draco in the Order and was heartily sorry for every time she’d complained about him, every time she’d argued with him, every time she’d found him staring into the fire with dead eyes but hadn’t thought to ask what was wrong because she hadn’t believed that he could have such deep feelings. She even remembered a time when she’d laughed at a snide comment Ron had made to Draco about his mother, and her face burned with shame. Then her mind turned to the end of her conversation with Draco, and her face burned for another reason.
How could she have fallen in love with Draco Malfoy? He was arrogant, he was rude, he was snide even to people he liked. He’d been a bully all through school and he still fought with her brother and Harry whenever he saw them. He’d been a terror in the war even when he was helping the Order. He was the son of a war criminal and a close friend of many Death Eaters. He’d lied to her and tricked her into making that oath to marry him and then he’d tried to manipulate her into keeping it. He’d insulted her and her family more times than she could count, and he was always convinced he was right and he was always leaving his shoes in the doorway of the cloakroom right where she’d trip over them and he was impossible to sleep with.
That reminded her of Switzerland, and the thought made her smile. She’d actually learned to sleep with him by the end, and really, he looked so . . . so human when he was asleep. And of course Switzerland was where they’d had their first dance, and where he’d told her he’d always be faithful to her, and where . . . she covered her face with her hands and groaned. She could list his faults all night long and she would never be able to talk herself of out caring for him. It was hopeless. She loved him and there was nothing she could do about it.
Love changed everything. Looking back over the past two months, Ginny could see so many hints, so many clues that led to up to this eventuality, like puzzle pieces that had no significance on their own but that, when seen in the light of her discovery, all fit together to show her that she’d been falling for him since that day she’d sworn an oath to marry him.
She remembered the Stewarts’ party, which was the first time she’d seen him interact normally with his peers, and how surprised she’d been to see how pleasant he could be and how highly they all thought of him. She thought about his awkward apology after their first fight, and the way she’d felt when she saw him walk into her parents’ backyard to stand by her side as she broke the news. And then there was the time he’d taken flowers to Hannah to apologize, not because Ginny had told him to but because he’d felt sorry for hurting her.
She remembered how much she’d enjoyed being with him in Switzerland, pretending to be in love to get Pansy to leave them alone, how they’d laughed together at the street fair, the awkwardness of their first dance. She thought about the way he’d defended her to Henri du Franchard, and the way her heart had pounded at the smile on his face as they danced that last waltz together. And she thought about his sorrow as he’d told her of the family tragedy, and how much her heart had ached as she realized that she wouldn’t always be there to comfort him. Yes, this had been creeping up on her for a long time and she’d been too blind to realize it.
But what could she do about it? Although she knew that Draco had come to feel much more for her than he had at the beginning of their marriage, she couldn’t fool herself into thinking that his regard for her was anything more than the platonic affection one felt for an old chum. And there didn’t seem to be much chance of him changing his mind; as confident as Ginny was in her own looks and personality, she knew she wasn’t as refined or sophisticated as the type of girls Draco had dated in the past.
She had a sudden vision of herself visiting high-end salons and clothing stores and coming out the elegant goddess who could attract Draco Malfoy with a single look, but she discarded that fantasy as soon as she thought of it. Draco would know something was up if she came home looking like one of the French models at the Ministry ball, and the one thing she was suddenly perfectly sure of was that Draco couldn’t know how she felt for him- not yet, anyway. To say something now would make everything terribly awkward between them, and she might lose her chance forever.
It was better to wait, to observe the situation and see if Draco- a bitter smile twisted her lips suddenly- to see if Draco might ever give a pushy little nobody like me a chance. She leaned her head back against the armchair and closed her eyes for a long moment, then left the den and went wearily up to bed.
When she went downstairs the next morning, Ginny was afraid things were going to be strange between them, and not only because when he walked into the entry hall and said her name softly she suddenly wanted to kiss him senseless. No, it was also because she knew only too well that Draco never said anything about himself that would leave him vulnerable, but for some reason he had changed that policy last night. She was afraid he would regret having said so much to her.
Fortunately he seemed to be thinking just the opposite. If anything, he was more relaxed than she usually saw him. It appeared that he felt their heart-to-heart had brought them closer: he chatted warmly with her for a few minutes, and when she told him Hermione had owled her early and asked her to come over, he chivalrously helped her on with her jacket.
It wasn’t exactly true that Hermione had asked her to come over. Actually, the message had stated:
Ginny,
Ron and I would like to see you. Is there a time we could come over?
Ginny’s response had been swift, driven by the sudden feeling that Hermione, who knew her better than almost anyone, would immediately sense that something was amiss if she saw the Malfoys together now, when Ginny’s feelings for Draco were still so raw and new.
Hermione,
Actually, I’m going out this morning anyway. How about I stop by your place?
Now she just needed a reason to go out.
But Draco didn’t know that, so she smiled and stood stock still as he helped her into her jacket and brushed her hair back so it wouldn’t get caught in the zipper. She smiled weakly at him and Apparated away quickly, stopping just outside Hermione’s so she could catch her breath and collect herself. Draco’s actions in the cloakroom had nearly been her undoing. She knew he didn’t mean anything particular by it- she’d seen him do the same thing for Elise and even Calliope- but that hadn’t stopped her from catching her breath when she’d felt his hands on her hair. With a groan at her own stupidity, she turned and resolutely knocked on Hermione’s door.
Hermione answered almost immediately, a smile on her face, but she wouldn’t say anything as she invited Ginny in. “I decided to make breakfast when I heard you were coming,” she said brightly.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Ginny replied immediately. “I didn’t mean to give you extra work-”
“Don’t be silly,” Hermione said brightly. “I found this book on enchanting omelets that I’ve been dying to try out.” As they reached the kitchen, she paused and looked at Ginny, her expression suddenly uncertain. “I’ve been feeling sorry that I didn’t invite Draco,” she said. “I was just worried that with Ron being here-”
“It’s all right,” Ginny chuckled. “Draco’s a big boy. He’ll survive without me.” Hermione smiled in relief and disappeared into the kitchen, and Ginny, preparing to follow after, thought with a self-deprecatingly amused smile how true that statement probably was.
In the apartment’s tiny kitchen she found Ron, and the Weasley siblings greeted each other warmly. It was the first time in a long time that Ginny had seen him without Draco present, and her husband’s absence made Ron visibly more relaxed. They chatted comfortably a while, and finally, after their omelets had been brought out and the group was sitting on the balcony eating, the smiling couple sitting across from Ginny got around to telling her their real reason for wanting to see her.
“We were over at Mum and Dad’s with most of the family last night,” Ron said, “and we tried to Floo you, but your house elf said you’d left.”
“After dinner?” Ginny asked with a laugh. “I’m sorry you missed me- I was just out back, taking a walk on the grounds.” And falling in love with the man you hate.
Ron shrugged with a smile. “Bad timing, then.”
Hermione leaned in closer to him, though her eyes were still on Ginny. “But you’re here now, so . . .” She put her left hand out over the table so Ginny could see the glint of silver on her fourth finger. “Ron and I are getting married.”
“Congratulations,” Ginny laughed, standing so she could hug her friend and her brother. “No two people deserve each other more than you do.”
“You know, you don’t seem very surprised by our announcement,” Hermione observed as she pulled away from the fray so Ginny could hug Ron properly.
“Are you kidding?” Ginny demanded, turning to face her friend. “I’ve known you two would get married since you were thirteen years old.”
The engaged couple both turned bright red.
“There’s an engagement party next Friday at the Burrow,” Hermione said once their little group had pulled apart and Ginny was sitting on the other side of the table again. “And-” she glanced at Ron, who had a long-suffering expression on his face, and he gave a very small, very reluctant nod- “And we’d love to have you bring Draco along.”
“Really?” Ginny asked, unable to keep the surprise out of her voice. It had been a long time since anyone in her family had reached out to Draco, and, by extension, to her. She knew her family would never purposefully exclude her from family gatherings, but she couldn’t help but feel that she’d seen them precious little since her wedding, and she was quite sure it was because they didn’t entirely know how Draco fit into their tight-knit family unit- or if he even wanted to try.
“Of course,” Hermione responded, immediately picking up on the twinge in Ginny’s voice. “Ginny, about Draco . . . I’m sorry about the way we all act about him.”
Ginny smiled, but her reply was cut off when Ron unexpectedly spoke. “She’s right,” he said hesitantly, and both women looked at him in surprise. “Draco is-” he paused, clearly struggling with the words- “Draco is your husband, and we haven’t done right by him. By either of you.” He smiled tightly at his sister. “And we’re really sorry.”
At his words, Ginny found herself smiling quietly. “Thanks,” she said softly. “I appreciate that. And we’d love to come on Friday.” And they all went back to their meal, Ginny marveling at Ron’s sudden maturity and Hermione casting openly admiring looks at her fiance.
When the meal was done, Ginny embraced Ron and Hermione one last time and congratulated them again. As the pair walked her to the door, Hermione asked, “What else did you have to do this morning?”
“Visit Neville,” Ginny said immediately, because it was the first thing that came to mind. Fortunately he lived not far from Hermione, so it was a plausible answer. “I haven’t seen him for a while, so I thought . . .”
“Would you mind if we came with?” Hermione asked brightly. “We haven’t told him yet.”
So the group Apparated to Neville’s apartment, appearing with a pop that caused Colin Creevey, just coming out of the front door, to jump in fear and drop his wand. “You nearly gave me a heart attack!” he said, grabbing the wand that Ron, sniggering, had picked up for him. “What are you all doing here?”
“We’re looking for Neville,” Hermione said. “Is he home?”
Ginny fully expected Colin wouldn’t know- the man was a bit scatter-brained and usually didn’t know what anyone else was up to, even his own roommate- so she was surprised when he answered brightly, “I’m going to meet him right now. Care to come with?”
So the four wizards walked down the block together to the nearby park, where a small crowd had gathered around a football field. “Dean Thomas is playing this morning- you know, that city league he’s in- and he wanted us to come watch,” Colin explained. “They call their team the Wizards- they think they’re clever, you see, because they are wizards, mostly Muggle-borns who never really liked Quidditch, plus a few nutters who just like Muggle sports.”
They found Neville down near the Wizards’ goal, sitting on a bench with a dark-haired girl who looked vaguely familiar. When Colin called Neville’s name, both he and the girl turned toward them and stood up. “Ginny, Ron, Hermione, I didn’t expect to see you three,” Neville smiled. “What are you doing here?”
As Hermione explained how they’d ended up at the game, Ginny examined Neville. He was looking well, she decided, and happy, too; he was normally so quiet and reclusive, but this morning he was smiling comfortably. She wondered if the girl he was with had something to do with it; the hand she had on his arm did seem somewhat more than friendly.
She didn’t have to wait long to find out. “So,” Colin said in his usual brash way, “is this that girl you’ve been seeing?”
The girl smiled shyly as Neville responded, “Yes, this is who I wanted you to meet. Everyone, this is Morag MacDougal. You might remember her from Hogwarts.”
“Of course,” Hermione smiled. “Ravenclaw, right? I remember in Charms class once, you cast the most impressive Gubraithian fire spell. I was so jealous.”
“Only you would remember something like that, Herm,” Ron said fondly.
“I’m flattered you remember, Hermione,” Morag said in a soft but genuine voice, and Ginny knew instinctively that she was going to like this girl.
Neville smiled at Morag and then motioned to the rest of the group. “And this is my roommate, Colin Creevey, and you might remember Ron Weasley- he was in our year- and this is his little sister Ginny Weasley, now Ginny Malfoy.” Morag’s eyes widened in surprise, but she said nothing, for which Ginny was grateful.
Colin looked at Hermione. “So what did you need to come down here for?”
The happy couple smiled in that slightly bashful way that Ginny had often seen on her married siblings’ faces, and something in her chest twinged in response. She found she couldn’t even listen to Ron and Hermione as they announced their news; their happiness only served to remind her of everything she didn’t have. Instead she found herself staring at Hermione’s ring. Hermione had a tiny silver band, no diamonds, and she was the happiest woman in the world. Ginny had the most beautiful ring she’d ever seen, and what did she have? Nothing. Not love, not family, not any hope of a future with Draco. She bit the inside of her lip and forced herself to push those thoughts aside.
“Congratulations!” Colin was saying, shaking Ron’s hand exuberantly, while Neville and Morag spoke to Hermione is quieter but no less warm tones.
“And you all must come to the engagement party on Friday,” Hermione said. “And we’d love it if you could come, Morag.” Morag blushed.
“Can I bring Romilda?” Colin asked.
Ron and Hermione both froze, false smiles plastered across their faces, and it was a tribute to Hermione’s good manners that she managed to say politely, “Of course you can bring Romilda.”
As the Wizards suddenly scored a goal, Ginny seized the opportunity to remark to Ron under the replying roar of the crowd, “Don’t worry; she’s improved since Hogwarts.” Ron looked immensely relieved.
It was decided that they would all stay and watch the game so that Ron and Hermione could talk to Dean afterwards. The group moved to the bench Neville and Morag had been on and found seats, and the talk soon turned to old acquaintances.
“I hear Ernie Macmillan’s getting married,” Colin said.
“To Hannah Abbot, of course,” Hermione replied. “We certainly saw that one coming. And I hear Seamus Finnigan’s gotten quite serious about a girl.”
“Yes, I’ve heard,” Ginny grinned.
“You were there, weren’t you?” Neville asked. “The whole Switzerland thing?” He laughed. “Apparently that one worked out well for Pansy Parkinson. A girl at work said she saw her at a restaurant with some German fellow.”
“Not Jens Reichmann the third?” Ginny gasped, choking back laughter. “Good girl, Pansy. Good girl.”
As the good-natured banter went on, Morag, sitting next to Ginny, suddenly spoke. “So, Mrs. Malfoy-”
“Please, call me Ginny.”
“Of course.” Morag smiled. “I was just wondering about your last name. Is it-”
“Draco Malfoy? Yes, that’s my husband.”
“How did that happen? I mean, I remember him always fighting with your brother-” She paused, looking chagrined. “I’m sorry. Is that too forward?”
“No, it’s all right,” Ginny replied, smiling. “Most people wonder the same thing.” She shrugged. “I would never have expected us to end up together, either, but we’ve both changed a lot since school.” A glance over at her brother, and then: “But Ron still hasn’t really accepted him.”
“I’m sorry,” Morag said softly.
“It’s all right,” Ginny laughed. “We’re working on it.”
“Draco was in the Order of the Phoenix, wasn’t he?” Morag asked, glancing around covertly as though expecting Death Eaters to be spying on them from behind the trees.
“He was,” Ginny said proudly.
“That was very brave of him.” She paused. “I’m glad he’s found you.”
“Thanks,” Ginny said warmly. “And I could say the same thing about you and Neville. He’s been a good friend for a long time, and I’m glad he’s so happy right now.” She’d been worried about Neville since she’d heard that Colin was dating Romilda. With one best friend married and the other in a serious relationship, where did that leave Neville? But now he’d found someone.
“Thank you,” Morag said, and Ginny saw Neville, sitting on the other side of her, take her hand and rub it gently. The simple gestured made that twinge in her chest return.
She was happy for him, of course, so happy that she ached for it. But at the same time it added to the burden that she carried in her heart: Neville had found love, Ron and Hermione were to be married, Elise and James were beginning a family together, and where was she? Trapped in a marriage with a man who did not love her back.
. . . . . .
Ginny had changed somehow. Draco couldn’t really pinpoint how or why, but he was sure things were different, in some way that hovered at the back of his mind so he couldn’t help thinking about it. The question lingered all throughout the workweek, and it wasn’t until he was at work on Friday that he realized what it was: she’d stopped touching him.
Of course, it wasn’t like they were a real couple who usually cuddled and held hands, but he’d gotten used to the fact that she usually wasn’t afraid of physical contact. In fact it was one of the first things he’d noticed about her: that she often used tactile communication, whether she was touching his arm comfortingly or giving him a black eye.
But in the past week she’d stopped entirely. She didn’t appear to be mad at him, because she was still as good-humored as ever, but she’d stopped hitting his arm playfully when they had their good-natured quarrels. He still went into her room most nights to talk before they went to sleep, but she no longer leaned her head against his knee. Looking back, the last time he could remember her voluntarily making contact with him was the night he’d told her how his mother died, when she’d leaned against him comfortingly.
And that, he thought with a sinking feeling, might be the source of the problem. Maybe she hadn’t minded being friendly with him when she hadn’t known the whole story, but now that she knew the pathetic details of his life she was pulling away from him.
It was a disconcerting thought. Her words from that first day they’d spent as husband and wife echoed in his head: “I should be the one person- and this should be the one place where you’re always safe.” She seemed to have meant it then, meant that she wouldn’t judge him for his past or his family, but maybe she’d changed her mind when she heard about how weak the Malfoys really were and how Voldemort had managed to destroy the family completely, how the Dark Lord’s “glorious cause” had killed off Draco’s parents one by one and left him entirely alone. He wished he hadn’t told Ginny about his mother. He hadn’t actually talked to anyone about Narcissa since her funeral, and he hadn’t meant to start with Ginny, but something about her invited confession and promised solace. And he’d given in and revealed the family’s dark secrets. He couldn’t blame her if she was disgusted by the family she’d married into. He’d be hurt, but he couldn’t blame her.
Draco quickly quashed that line of thought. He would not be hurt by her. What did her opinion matter, really? It wasn’t a real marriage. It was two people playing house to fool everyone around them, and it had been doomed to end in divorce before it had even begun. It didn’t matter what Ginny thought of his family as long as she kept up her end of the bargain.
But he still wished he hadn’t told her.
On Friday they went to Ron and Hermione’s engagement party at the Burrow. At any previous point in his life, Draco would have shuddered at the thought of spending the evening at the Burrow, celebrating the impending nuptials of a Muggle lover and a Muggleborn. But something had changed. When he thought about it, he supposed he felt he had something to prove to Ginny. He couldn’t say what it was, but it made him greet her parents with exquisite politeness when he and Ginny arrived at the party.
Molly and Arthur both looked shocked, but to their credit, they recovered quickly and greeted him warmly. Arthur asked Draco about his work at the Ministry of Magic, and Molly asked whether he was taking care of her little girl.
“Mum!” Ginny said plaintively, reddening a little. “Of course Draco’s taking good care of me, and before you ask, yes, we’re very happy.”
Surprised at the sudden warmth that spread through him at those words, Draco followed Ginny on to the next group of people to meet, but not before he’d waved jovially over his shoulder at her parents.
“I like them,” he announced. Ginny seemed to be studiously avoiding his gaze, but when she thanked him there was true gratitude in her voice.
Next they talked with Fred and Angelina, whose wedding, Draco vaguely recalled, was within the next few months. They were perfectly suited for each other, he decided: both were good-natured, easy-going, and very witty. He enjoyed talking with them a great deal.
“Why weren’t we invited to their engagement party?” Draco demanded in a whisper as he and Ginny moved away.
“They didn’t have one,” Ginny chuckled. “Fred said if he was going to have a party it’d better involve Firewhisky, and Mum nearly had a heart attack, and Angelina came in and smoothed it over and said she’d rather put that money toward the wedding.”
Draco, looking around at the Burrow, thought that if any money saved by not having a meager party such as the one he was presently at could appreciably affect Fred and Angelina’s wedding budget, then their wedding was going to be a very modest affair. But he didn’t say that. Instead, he said, “Remind me that we need to send them an engagement present, too, then.”
Ginny beamed at him, apparently still amused at his insistence about the giving of engagement presents. When he’d found out earlier that week that Ron and Hermione were engaged, the first thing he’d done, of course, was make several snide comments, mostly about Ron, which made Ginny stick out her tongue at him. But the second thing he’d done was to send an owl to Johann Schiller, a jeweler and glass blower in Germany. He explained to Ginny that it was a long-standing Malfoy family tradition to give Schiller mirrors as engagement presents to family members and close friends. Ginny had shrugged and acquiesced, remarking only that Salazar Slytherin must be rolling over in his grave to hear Draco Malfoy referring to Ron and Hermione as his family.
The Malfoys talked to Bill and Fleur then, and then with Seamus and Calliope. Draco found himself quite relieved to see Seamus there. He was beginning to believe that he wouldn’t know anyone at the party- unless one counted antagonizing and throwing hexes at someone as “knowing them,” which Draco really didn’t- and he immediately fell into conversation with his co-worker.
After a few minutes, the line to greet the happy couple had dwindled, and Ginny led Draco across the room to where Ron and Hermione were sitting, gazing at each other in a loving way that made didn’t make Draco as ill as he’d expected it would. “You came!” Hermione cried when she saw the Malfoys approach, and Draco felt sure that her surprise came from seeing him there. He had been rather shocked himself when Ginny had told him that he’d been invited.
But if Hermione was surprised to see him, she hid it well. After hugging Ginny tightly, she moved on to Draco; he waited to see if she’d dare try to hug him, but all she did, after a brief hesitation, was to take one of his hands in both of hers and say sincerely, “Thank you for coming.”
He had always tolerated Hermione better than either of her two friends, so he smiled. “Thank you for inviting me. And congratulations.”
Hermione gave a pleased smile and opened her mouth as though to continue, but just then Ron finished his conversation with Ginny and turned to Draco. Hermione fell silent and released Draco’s hand, and both she and Ginny watched breathlessly as their significant others faced each other. The look in Ron’s eye was hard and wary, and Draco was tempted to say something snide, as his rival was no doubt expecting him to do. At the last moment, however, he remembered that he was an invited guest, so instead of insulting Ron he extended his hand at just the same moment that Ron did the same. And slowly, reluctantly, the old enemies shook hands.
“Congratulations,” Draco said.
“Thanks,” Ron replied.
And that was all, but from the looks on Ginny’s and Hermione’s faces, it was enough.
Remembering his and Ginny’s conversation from earlier, Draco reached into his pocket then and pulled out a small box wrapped in white paper. A tap from his wand restored it to its original size, and he handed it to Hermione. “Happy engagement.”
“This is really heavy,” Hermione said, lifting the box up and down. “What is it?”
“Open it and see,” Ginny suggested. She had seen the mirror when it had been delivered and had immediately declared that it was absolutely beautiful and that Hermione was going to love it.
Hermione glanced at Ron, who shrugged, then sat down with the box balanced on her knees and began carefully untaping the paper. Draco, watching with amusement, reflected that he might have something in common with his future sister-in-law after all. The Weasley siblings, in contrast, both looked impatient as they waited for Hermione to finish.
Finally the paper was off and Hermione lifted the lid of the box, moved the tissue paper out of the way, and then gasped as she lifted the mirror out of the box. “Ginny, Draco, this is beautiful,” she said, running a finger down the ornate gold frame.
“Apparently they’re a Malfoy family tradition,” Ginny replied with a laugh.
Draco explained, “It’s enchanted to show anyone who’s been put into the spell, no matter where they are. My grandmother always said that they’re good for keeping track of children.”
Hermione’s eyes widened. “Is this a Schiller mirror?”
Draco nodded. “The original Schiller died, but his son still makes them in Germany.”
Ron seemed somewhat impressed by the mirror, but Hermione was still staring at it in shock. “Draco,” she said, “these are really expensive. I mean, really, really expensive.”
Draco shrugged, mildly uncomfortable. Of course it was expensive, but for most of his friends and relatives, a gift like this was normal, even expected. He wasn’t used to people being as surprised by his generosity as Hermione seemed to be, so it was quite a shock to him when she handed the mirror carefully to Ginny and then threw her arms around him. “Thank you,” she said.
“You’re welcome,” Draco replied, very uncomfortably, one hand coming up to awkwardly pat her on the back.
“You can stop now,” Ron said loudly.
“That might be best,” Draco agreed, carefully extracting himself from Hermione’s embrace.
“I’m glad to see you two agreeing with each other,” Ginny said dryly as Ron slipped a protective arm around his fiancee’s waist. Their small group talked for a few moments more, and then the Malfoys excused themselves. Draco followed Ginny to the kitchen, but not before he noticed with great amusement that Hermione was carefully, almost lovingly putting the mirror back in its enchanted box.
Ginny glanced back to see what he was looking at. “How expensive was that mirror?” she asked as Draco followed her into the kitchen and shut the door.
Draco didn’t answer for a moment, too busy marveling at the tiny size of the kitchen. But at least it was empty except for him and Ginny, and he could have a moment to himself away from the crowds of Weasleys. “Somewhat expensive, I suppose, but I’ve never had anyone react like that before. I hope Ron isn’t going to hex me now.”
“He didn’t look pleased,” Ginny laughed, grabbing a plate and filling it with fruit. “It looks like even when you’re not trying to, you upset my brother.” She was quiet a moment. “So you give those out to everyone you know?”
“Only those we’re close to. James and Elise have one in their front hall. You’ve never noticed it?”
Ginny shrugged and shook her head. “Does the Manor have one?”
“Gift from my grandparents,” Draco replied, nodding his head. “It’s in my mother’s favorite sitting room, near the dining room. I never go in there anymore. It-” this felt very personal, but this was Ginny, after all, his Ginny, and if anyone would understand it was her- “it just reminds me too much of her.”
She nodded and took the cup of punch he had just filled for her- with no ice cubes, as he knew she liked it- and took a sip, her brow furrowed as though she was in thought. “So if it shows where you are at any given time,” she said, “why did your father never look in it and realize that you were in the Order of the Phoenix?”
“There’s a spell you use to make people visible to the mirror, and that person has to actually take part in the casting- it’s a precaution against people using it to spy on others. Before I left, I ended the spell that made me visible to the mirror, so my father couldn’t see me through it.”
Ginny handed him a plate of strawberries, his favorite, and nodded thoughtfully. “So now your mirror is just gathering dust?”
Draco shrugged. “I thought about pulling it out when I moved back home, but I had no family and there was no one else I cared to keep an eye on.”
He paused. The next statement was obvious. He should tell her that when they got home, he was going to pull it out and they could both cast the spell and they would always know how to find each other, just like a proper family. But then a sudden, horrible thought plagued him- what if she said no? So he didn’t say anything, and she didn’t say anything. They just looked at each other, and it wasn’t until George and Hannah entered the kitchen that either Malfoy moved.
Hannah greeted both Draco and Ginny with exuberant hugs, scolding them all the while for not visiting. George was nearly as effusive as his wife; apparently he’d forgiven Draco entirely for the anti-Muggle charm incident. After that, Ginny wanted to talk to the rest of the party, and Draco patiently tagged along as she chatted with Charlie and his wife, Luna Lovegood, Lavender Brown, and even Hermione’s Muggle parents.
Draco very nearly drew the line right there. Deciding not to join Voldemort in killing Muggles was one thing, but socializing with them was an entirely different affair. He tried to come up with some way to excuse himself, but by then Ginny was already halfway across the room toward them and to walk away from her side now, when everyone could see them, would make both of them look bad. So he dutifully followed her to speak with the Grangers and actually found them to be decent sorts- for Muggles, of course.
The rest of the evening carried on in much the same way. Draco talked at length with Seamus and Calliope and Hannah; he played catch in the backyard with Bill’s little girls; and he dutifully greeted every person Ginny introduced him to, though he didn’t even bother to try to remember names because he was sure he’d never see half of these people again. He was impressed with how Ginny remembered so many people- not only names, but things they cared about or things that were happening in their lives. Everyone who spoke to Ginny left smiling. Draco spent much of the evening watching her fondly as she made the rounds to greet everyone.
To his surprise, the evening was generally significantly more pleasant than he’d thought it would be. The only thing that marred his good mood was the late arrival of three young adults, one of whom was Neville Longbottom and two of whom looked vaguely familiar to Draco. He had to ask Luna, who’d roped him into a conversation about the medicinal properties of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans, who they were. She explained that they’d all gone to Hogwarts and been in his year. The girl was Morag MacDougal and the tall, handsome man was Dean Thomas.
“I think Ginny’s mentioned him,” Draco commented to Luna.
“It makes sense,” Luna said serenely. “They dated her fifth year. I think he’s the only ex-boyfriend that she keeps in touch with.”
“Why does she keep in touch with him?” he asked abruptly, his good mood suddenly gone.
“Perhaps because he lives in London. Or perhaps because they always have gotten along so well. But I think it’s nice that they can still be friends, don’t you agree?” Luna replied, looking over at where Ginny was greeting Dean with a hug.
She said something else, but Draco wasn’t really listening at that point, staring instead at his wife and her ex-boyfriend. It was ridiculous, a small part of him knew, especially considering the fact that he’d recently spent a week in the same house as his ex-girlfriend, but the feeling in his stomach remained. He wanted to walk over there and say-
“Mr. Malfoy!” came a rather proper voice suddenly, derailing his train of thought.
Draco turned. “Professor Lupin,” he said politely, though they’d been Draco and Remus to each other during the war.
“I understand you’ve married our Miss Weasley,” his old teacher said. “Congratulations. She’s a wonderful girl.”
“Thank you. And yes, she is,” Draco responded without thinking. Remus studied him a long moment and was about to speak when a the owner of a head of pink hair appeared behind his left shoulder and threw a pair of slender arms around him.
“I’ve been looking all over- wotcher, Draco!”
“Hello, Tonks,” Draco said dutifully. His cousin had tried, during Draco’s time in the Order, to improve family relations, but Draco’s reluctance and reticence had hampered her efforts a great deal. Still, the experience had served to remind Draco that the Tonkses were the only family he had left, so he tried to be civil whenever he saw Tonks, which he took pains to ensure happened as rarely as possible.
“I heard about you and Ginny,” Tonks continued. “I was gobsmacked, I don’t mind telling you. Absolute last thing I expected.”
“Nymphadora,” Remus said, a note of reprimand in his voice.
“It’s all right,” Draco shrugged. “It’s the absolute last thing I expected, too.”
“So why didn’t we get a wedding announcement or anything?” Tonks demanded.
Draco supposed that she was thinking that Ginny ought to have sent the Lupins an announcement, because she was daft if she thought he would ever have sent her one. “No one got one,” he shrugged. “We eloped.”
“But don’t worry,” came Ginny’s voice from behind him. “You would have gotten one if anyone had.”
Draco turned to see his wife approaching, accompanied by her parents, and he felt a sudden rush of pleasure at seeing her standing by his side and not talking with that ex-boyfriend of hers. The Malfoys exchanged smiles, and Draco said, “It just all happened so quickly. There was really no time for anything like that.”
“Yes, it’s a pity your wedding did happen so fast,” Molly said with a sigh. Then she perked up. “But can you believe this? My last three children, all married in the same year. We should get a new family portrait taken.”
Draco had to stifle a snort of laughter at the thought of his picture hanging in the Burrow. But then he thought about that picture being obsolete within a year; after all, he would not be in the Weasley family for long. He wondered if Ginny was thinking of the same thing. He wondered if it made her sorry. He wondered why the thought suddenly made him feel very alone. And with all of these thoughts running through his head, he was very glad when Charlie suddenly came to tell his parents goodbye and he and Ginny could excuse themselves.
They stood in awkward silence for a moment, and then Ginny spoke. “Thank you for coming. I know this isn’t anything like as fancy as you’re used to.”
Draco shrugged uncomfortably. He didn’t want Ginny to think he looked down on her for her humble upbringing. But if she did think so, he had no one to blame for himself, because until very, very recently, looking down on her for her family and past was exactly what he had done. But that was more than he knew how to explain, so after a moment he said only, “You’re welcome.”
“Ginny,” Molly said suddenly, coming up behind them, “could you do me a favor and run this chair up to your old room? I brought it down for the party but it looks like we’re about done down here.”
Draco looked around as Molly handed the chair, shrunk for convenience, and realized that his mother-in-law was right: everyone was leaving. He had survived an entire evening with the Weasley family. And in truth, it hadn’t been as bad as he’d been expecting. He smiled, very impressed with himself, and then decided to accompany Ginny on her errand.
“Are you sure?” she asked as they mounted the stairs.
“Why not?” Draco shrugged. “Seeing your room could be educational. It could lend me insight into how you became the Muggle-loving saint you are today.”
“I think I’m going to take that as a compliment,” she laughed, and opened the door to a tiny bedroom on the third floor.
“This is it?” Draco asked, looking around the room in shock. “I can see why you were so impressed by my nursery.”
“Yes, but growing up in these circumstances, I’m sure you can see why I grew up to be so down-to-earth and well-adjusted.”
“And cocky, apparently.”
“Well, of course cocky,” she replied. She led him to the far wall, through a curtained door, and onto a tiny balcony. There was barely room for the two of them to stand side by side.
“I used to spend so much time out here,” Ginny said reminiscently. “It was the only place I could be alone.” It was too dark to see her face, but from her voice Draco was sure she was smiling, and it made him smile. She seemed so content, so peaceful. That seemed to be her gift in life: the ability to find happiness in any situation.
And her habitual good nature seemed to be rubbing off on him. Life had been different lately. It was calmer, steadier, happier. He’d been happy as a child, of course, but for a long time now his life had been unsettled at best, and at times quite unhappy. It had been some ten years ago that his life had begun, very slowly, to change. It was then that he began to worry about the threat of war with Lord Voldemort- or was it then that he began to understand the true nature of Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy’s ideals?- and that was when everything began to feel different.
This discontent had plagued him for some time, until finally, spurred on by his mother’s death, he joined the Order of the Phoenix. He’d felt better about himself, then, but he also found a whole new set of worries: what his father would do if he found out that Draco was living in the old Black house and secretly helping the Order. Of course, he needn’t have worried; Lucius died before he ever discovered that his son was not, as he claimed, out of the country to flee the war
This didn’t make Draco feel any better, though, and in the time since the war’s end, he’d discovered that some dark, lonely nights stretched on far too long. But it was different now. Perhaps it was having someone to talk to, or perhaps it was the fact that this someone was so warm and caring, but Draco was happy again. He smiled down at Ginny again. He never wanted this moment to end. A frown suddenly crossed his face. He wanted the moment to never end, and he wanted Ginny not to leave. It was such a strange thought that he pushed it back into the depths of his mind and concentrated simply on the sound of the wind in his ears.
“It could have been worse,” he said suddenly.
“What could have been?” Ginny asked.
“This. Us. I mean, of all the people I could have married, I was lucky enough to choose someone that I’ve come to really like.”
“Really?” she asked, sounding almost shy. “Thank you.”
And then, without thinking, he was putting his arm around her shoulder and pulling her into a lopsided hug, hampered by the rails of the tiny balcony. She relaxed immediately into his embrace and the Malfoys stood together in something like wedded bliss for a brief moment. Draco would have held on to Ginny longer but he suddenly felt unwell, a feeling that disappeared when he released her. It seemed strange, but then, he’d eaten an entire plate of shortbread at the party. So he shrugged it off and stared up at the stars, content simply to be with his wife.
“Thanks again for putting up with my family,” Ginny said after a moment.
“We all have to face trials in this life,” Draco shrugged, and Ginny elbowed him. That made him smile. Things had been strange between them that week, but if she was back to elbowing him, they were going to be all right.
. . . . . .
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