Draco woke up happier than he had been in years. His feelings had crystallized the night before, while he danced with Ginny. He was in love—totally and completely, head-over-heels in love. He had never felt anything so wonderful in his life.

The pain of kneeling to use the Floo had been worth it: his plans had worked as well as he had hoped. First, Draco had planned to walk Ginny to dinner, to treat her as if they were on a date. He had arranged for the game to be sent anonymously to Fanny Marshall in order to have Ginny more or less to himself in the evening. He had known Susan would give him the space he needed; she had been the closest person to a friend he had had at Notting Park before Ginny arrived, and he trusted she would understand his motives. Finally, he had Flooed the Wireless station they usually listened to in the evenings to request the Weird Sisters song. After all, what is more romantic than dancing? And it had been romantic.

When they danced, everything else had faded away. All Draco could see was Ginny’s face, her lips, her eyes. All he could feel was her slight form moving with his, her heart beating faster and faster, and the way she trembled in his arms. She felt the same as he did—he was sure of it. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have reacted the way she did. He couldn’t wait to see her again.

Draco arrived in the drawing room earlier than usual, having rushed through his morning routine. He was triumphant to beat Ginny to it for once, even if a small part of him would have preferred to find her there, waiting for him. He sat down, and settled in to wait, a smug smile on his face.

***

Ginny was thankful that she had made plans with Ellen to go to the Burrow to help with the wedding arrangements that day. She had tossed and turned all night, constantly reliving her dance with Draco, and riding the waves of her conflicted emotions. When she got up, she was still completely unsettled, and wasn’t sure she could face him right away. A day of Ellen’s company and lots of repetitive tasks was exactly what she needed.

Ginny spent most of the morning folding napkins and sorting through her reactions to Draco. On one hand, Ginny had enjoyed their dance more than she wanted to admit, even to herself. The jolt she had felt when she looked into Draco’s eyes was nothing less than amazing—even more amazing than the one she had felt the first time Harry had kissed her—and Draco had inspired it by merely looking at her, looking at her as if she were the only thing in the world worth looking at. Now that she thought about it, Harry had never done that, not even when he proposed. The thought made her shiver, despite the warmth of the kitchen.

She didn’t want to think about Harry right now, but it was unavoidable. Ginny had always thought of Harry as the love of her life, even when she suspected that she wasn’t the love of his. Was she willing to put that idea aside after so many years for the chance of a romance with Draco? Did she even want to? Her heart answered, “Yes!” but her mind urged her not to be hasty. How would her family react? Would they think she was betraying Harry? Would she be?

Ginny’s thoughts were interrupted when Ellen burst into the kitchen. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with that man!” she said, throwing herself into the seat opposite Ginny’s and reaching for a pile of napkins to fold. “I swear, if he kills himself, it will be his problem, not mine!” Ginny had reluctantly agreed not to hang the fairy lights this time, even though she knew all the right branches to use after years and years of experience, so she had relinquished the job to Dietrich. He had decided to do the job on a broomstick, and his tricky maneuvers to get the fairies placed properly had been exasperating Ellen all morning. Ginny had been amused by the way she alternated between hovering and huffing all morning.

Now that Ellen seemed to have settled down a little, Ginny decided to take advantage of her distraction. After a few quiet moments, she asked as casually as she could, “What do you think about people marrying again, after their spouse has died?”

Ellen looked at her intently for a moment, before shrugging her shoulders and saying, “There’s nothing wrong with it, as far as I’m concerned. That’s why marriage vows are only for life, and not for all time. Life’s too uncertain.”

“So if you happen to die before Dietrich, you wouldn’t mind if he remarried?”

“If I were dead, I wouldn’t care, would I?” Ellen asked with a mischievous smile. “But seriously, the principle of it doesn’t bother me. It’s not as if I’m jealous of some possible future spouse when I know I have Dietrich now, and I would rather he be happy than be faithful even unto eternity, or some such rot. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, er,” Ginny said, searching for an excuse. “There are a couple of people at Notting Park considering marrying again, and I’ve been trying to decide what I think about it.”

“I see,” Ellen said, pausing her movements for a moment. “Well, I can’t imagine anyone who would really object to the idea, at least not among our family or my friends.”

The two of them concentrated on folding napkins. After a while, Ellen abruptly said, “Bring him to the wedding.”

“What?” Ginny asked, startled.

“You heard me,” Ellen teased. “I said you should bring him to the wedding.”

“Who?”

“Why, Draco Malfoy, of course,” Ellen said with a half-smile that reminded Ginny startlingly of Draco. “Who else have we been talking about?”

***

Draco fidgeted in his seat. He wished he could enjoy the view, but his mind kept straying to Ginny. She still hadn’t appeared. It was well past her usual time, and he was beginning to worry. Had something happened to her? Had she taken ill? He started pacing around the room, his cane thumping rhythmically against the parquet flooring, becoming more and more agitated as he went.

Finally, when he couldn’t stand it anymore, and his knee was about to give out completely, he called for Addie.

“Sir called for Addie?” the house-elf twittered.

“Yes, Addie. Can you tell me where Mrs. Potter is?” Draco asked. “Is she perhaps in the activity room? Or in her suite?”

“Oh, no, sir!” Addie said, wide-eyed. “Mrs. Potter is gone away today, sir.”

Draco froze at her words. He managed to say, “Thank you, Addie,” and to wait for her to leave, before he began to shake in rage.

How could he have been so stupid? He had waited all this time, and she wasn’t going to come, she had never even planned to come. And she hadn’t even bothered to leave a note for him. She knew he would be waiting for her, as usual, and she had deliberately just let him sit in ignorance and worry. It was clearly a message. He must have been mistaken last night. She didn’t feel the same as he did at all. Why didn’t he notice it before? In retrospect, it was perfectly obvious from the way she fled the room after their dance. She couldn’t even stand to be in his company now. He really was an idiot! He had given her access to the deepest of his emotions, and what did he get for it? Outright rejection. That ought to teach him not to trust anyone again.

Anger coursing through his system, Draco stormed out of the drawing room and into the music room. One of the other residents was there with a young child, probably her grandson, who held a recorder in his hands. They both looked up at him, clearly startled by the way he banged the door.

“Out!” Draco bellowed, and the woman abruptly took the child by the arm, pulling him quickly from the room, his recorder falling to the floor unheeded as they went.

Draco sat down at the piano, and began to play the angriest pieces of music he could think of, trying unsuccessfully to banish any thought of Ginny from his mind.