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(Many thanks to the people of hourchallenges for the death threats encouragement and concrit, and to Sarea Okelani for the quick overall beta job. So any mistakes, it's because they all let me down! Not my fault at all! Okay, maybe a little. Anyway, go read.)
It had been an absolutely rotten day. She had gotten up early in order to make sure her flat was clean and ready for inspection by the landlord before she left for work. Or, at least, she had intended to, but her neighbors had felt the need to have a very loud, drunken party until two in the morning, at which time the police had arrived and then it had switched to loud, drunken arguing. Only knowing the punishment for using spells on muggles carried double the punishment kept her from crawling out of bed to cause a rash of Bat-Bogeys to infest the flat next door. And so instead of waking up early, she slept past the alarm and woke five minutes before she was supposed to be at work.
"Shit!" Her wand, of course, had rolled somewhere under the bed, so she shoved the tangled mess of red curls out of her eyes and wriggled amidst the intimidatingly large dust bunnies until she juuuuust managed to get a hold of it... Only to have it roll away to rest against the wall, well out of her reach. Her choices being to move a solid oak bedframe or to retrieve the wand with a broom, she snagged a broom from the kitchen, only realizing after she had jabbed it against the wall a few times that it was her boyfriend's new racing broom and not the cheap affair she kept around in order to appease the landlord when he did his monthly inspections. Honestly, one time that her flat was coated in slime and he watched her like a hawk. She had to make a show of leaving every day or he'd ask awkward questions. If only she could have found an affordable flat in the wizard section of London!
She gritted her teeth and mentally sneered at the small voice inside her head that pointed out that her boyfriend did not lack money, and would have been more than happy for her to take up residence with him in any place she cared to name. She wouldn't even have to work. All she would have to do would be to lounge around all day and be his.
"I'm an independent, adult woman," she muttered, jabbing the broom at her wand once more, although a bit more gently. It finally rolled towards her and she stood, feeling triumphant, until her eye fell on her clock, which now read five minutes after she was due at work, and then on the mirror, which showed her hair had turned grey from its dust coating. "I neither want nor need for Draco Malfoy to take care of me."
That being said, and firmly enough that she could almost convince herself she fully believed it, she used her wand to clean herself, and her flat, before she scrambled into her clothing and apparated to the Ministry, only to come eyeball to nostril with her older brother, who also happened to be her boss.
After an utterly humiliating lecture on the subject of punctuality and the need to scrupulously avoid even the appearance of nepotism, Percy announced he was docking her pay, patted her shoulder awkwardly, then wished her happy birthday. She'd looked at him in confusion and then said a word that had him frowning and preparing to start on a lecture about proper office decorum. She cut it off in mid-stream by saying, "Perce, it's not my birthday, it's Mum's."
"Oh, fuck." She didn't dare giggle. For one thing, she agreed with the sentiment, and for another, he'd never forgive her for it. Her resolve was hard pressed, though, when he said, "Look, just sign my name to yours, and we--"
"I can't," she said.
He scowled. "Look, if this is about docking your pay--"
"No, I mean, literally, I can't. I haven't bought anything for her yet, either." She really wanted to find it funny, the way that his face went through stages that included shock, aggravation, and sheer, pants-wetting terror, but she could empathize all too well. Molly Weasley’s birthday wasn’t quite a national holiday, but to appear without a suitable gift would mean banishment to the far end of the table, where any food that got passed to you was ice cold, as if to illustrate the wintry chill of Molly’s disfavor. The twins had spent one memorable Christmas dinner with absolutely nothing to eat, simply for presenting their mum with a quidditch broom wrapped in dissolving wrapping paper. She shuddered a bit, then said, “Look, I can go out—“
“No, you need to sort out this business with the Zabinis first. I don’t know what all they’re asking for now, but I don’t trust them not to be trying something sneaky.” Percy shook his head and shoved an over-full file into her hands, then picked up a cage full of fluttering paper airplanes and hooked it onto her finger. “Make sure it’s done by lunchtime.”
With that, he left her cramped office, completely ignoring the death glare she sent to his back. Muttering about stupid, sadistic swine and trying to come up with another sibilant adjective, she opened the cage door to get one of the airplanes out and then had to spend ten minutes chasing down all the ones that had escaped. When she finally got to sit down and look over the file, she found the problem easily enough; buried in the fine print, there was a clause that would bind the Ministry to only buy certain items from Zabini Enterprises and not seek competitive bids, price to be fair market value as determined by Zabini Enterprises.
She snorted in disdain at the parchment then crossed out all of the relevant sections with a flourish. The indulgence in smugness was a mistake, as the quill broke and leaked ink over the entire parchment, and her hands. She sighed and looked around for something to wipe her hands on, but before she could find anything, a dark figure loomed in her doorway.
“Troubles, Miss Weasley?” he said smoothly, handing her a large and impeccably starched square of the finest white linen.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” she said, snatching the handkerchief out of his hands with bad grace. “Come to see if I’ve suddenly gone stupid, Mister Zabini?”
His eyes went wide with a look of utter innocence. “Why, my dear Miss Weasley, you know I hold you in the highest regard! I’m appalled you should make such a slur upon my character.”
Her eyes narrowed and she folded her hands together, ignoring the feeling of ink sliding against her skin. She and Blaise Zabini had been playing this game ever since she had joined the Ministry and become, as Draco put it, the unofficial Slytherin spotter. Percy had received several glowing commendations from the Ministry and was considered a fast-rising star because his department had the most efficient and cost-effective budget of any, due entirely to Ginny being able to read contracts and find exactly where the hidden costs were. She sighed internally at how this didn’t even translate to a bit of understanding when she was unavoidably delayed, then got down to the business of serious negotiation.
An hour and a half later, a workable contract was finally signed, and the unholy irritant that was her boyfriend’s best friend smirked at her once more before leaving. As soon as she was sure he was gone, she crossed her arms on her desk and let her head fall forward to hit its surface with her forehead. She had, however, forgotten about the ink.
She didn’t remember about it until after she’d stormed Percy’s office and demanded the afternoon off with pay in order to go secure a gift from the both of them. He’d protested, although somewhat weakly, staring at her as if she was from another planet. Eventually they’d come to the agreement that she would go shopping and take as long as she needed, but the pay she was docked would come from Percy’s pocket and not the Ministry’s. Just before she left, he looked at her forehead again and said, “Um, Gin? You’ve got a bit of something on your face…”
After scrubbing her face hard enough that the redness was not completely due to blushing, she set out to find the perfect gift for her mother in less than four hours. She started in Diagon Alley, then worked her way through the shops on Domestick Alley, then on through Joolers Row, then ventured out to Muggle London in desperation.
Finally, a half an hour before she was due at home, scrubbed and polished and ready to celebrate, she had a flash of inspiration and started to rush back to a small shop in Joolers Row. It was tiny and shabby and completely out of place amongst the flashy boutiques all around it, but the only reason she was even allowed in the door was because Draco had bought her several baubles there; otherwise, it was much too exclusive to cater to any but the absolute filthiest rich clientele. Her gabbled explanation resulted in the proprietor sucking in his cheeks and looking at her warily. “Madame shall have whatever she wants, but isn’t it a bit ta-- Gaudy?”
“It’s for my mum,” she said, and he nodded in understanding before getting to work. Finally it was done, and she thanked him effusively as he wrapped it carefully in white silk, then conjured up a truly hideous bag decorated with red and gold sparkles and “Happy birthday!!” in flashing lights. “Oh, my. She’ll love it!”
The little old man nodded, then said, “Just don’t tell anyone that it was my shop you bought it at. I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”
She thanked him again and snatched it up, knowing from previous visits that she would offend him mightily if she attempted to pay him now, rather than waiting for the discreet invoice that would appear at her flat within a week or two. She fumbled with the unwieldy package, then pulled her wand out and apparated to the Burrow.
"Ginny, at last, I was getting so worried!" Molly attempted to smother her youngest child in a tight hug, but was thwarted by the size of the parcel.
"Sorry, Mum, I was picking this up and, well, you know how shopkeepers like to make you wait." This was, technically speaking, not true. Ever since the first time Narcissa had taken her along on a whirlwind shopping trip and made it quite clear that Ginny's status was to be more Malfoy than Weasley, shopkeepers tended to trip over themselves in order to wait on her immediately. Still, it was harmless enough, like the thousands of other tiny lies that she had to tell in order to smooth maternal relations.
Molly nodded and towed her along to the living room, where the coffee table was loaded down with wrapped parcels. "You'd think it was them that had to give you money and not the other way around, and that's the truth." As soon as the package was safely placed amidst the rest of the tribute, Molly gathered Ginny close and beamed. "It's so nice to have all the family here. Everyone I love, under one roof."
A weak smile was all Molly got in return, as her daughter was mentally counting to ten in order not to mention the way that Draco had pointedly not been mentioned. He wouldn't have come, of course; the one time he had, it had all ended in hexes. Once they entered the dining room, a discreet nod between siblings made Percy relax considerably, and the traditional early dinner and cake ceremonies proceeded apace. Sure, her head might feel like it was on the point of explosion, given that each of her brothers, and her brothers' wives, and any number of redheaded brats were all banging cutlery and shouting to hear each other and, in certain cases, making things explode. Molly smiled indulgently over them all, and Ginny just ate quietly and tried not to count the minutes until festivities involving most of her nearest and dearest were finally over.
At last, it was time to take plates full of cake and ice cream out to the living room, where everyone would attempt to find a place to sit while they waited to find out who would be graced with the position of favorite from then until Christmas. Ginny scrambled to make sure her present was placed so as to be opened last - thus allowing the others to gain hope before being crushed like bugs in the face of the glorious tackiness that was the gift she'd brought. She sneaked a tag on it and waited, smirking as Molly unwrapped silk robes and platinum kitchenware and all sorts of gifts that had Percy looking at nervously at his sister for reassurance.
Molly wiped away a tear as she closed the box which held Harry's gift, a set of diamonds fit for a duchess, and said, "It's lovely dear, and much too good for me. You know I always say, the only truly valuable jewels are my family."
Harry blushed a bit and grinned smugly at the others as Molly gave him an enormous hug and a kiss on the cheek. Several of the boys looked quite disgruntled, but perked up when they caught sight of Ginny's expression. "You've still got one more, dearest," said Arthur, who watched the gift war from a safe distance with some amusement.
"Oh, of course!" Molly cried, turning back to where the parcel stood in its gold and red flashing glory. "Let's see, this one is from darling Percy, and Ginny dear, and... That Draco boy."
Ginny's teeth were instantly on edge, but she swallowed back the words that had leapt to her mind and instead just smiled, if a bit fixedly. It was left to Percy to say, "We really hope you like it, Mum. It's not much, but... Happy birthday!" The ceremonial words being spoken, the wrapping paper was duly taken off carefully, for use in wrapping later packages, and the white silk exclaimed over as being perfect for making a new nightdress, and then the actual present was revealed, leaving the onlookers speechless.
It was a tree, tiny gold leaves waving in a magical breeze that moved the gilt and silver branches. At the base of the tree were two large jewels, the birthstones for Molly and Arthur, and each of the eight branches held the birthstone of the seven Weasley children and Harry. From the branches of those who had gone forth to multiply dangled the birthstones of their wives and children, and a diamond studded silver banner along the base proclaimed that, "The only true jewels are family."
"Oh, Ginny," breathed Molly, giving her a split second to wonder if she'd made a mistake estimating her mother's taste. Before she could doubt seriously, she was engulfed in a tearful hug. "Ginny, it's beautiful! I've never seen anything so lovely in all my life!" Percy sidled closer and Molly switched her death grip to him, sobbing into his shirtfront about how thoughtful and wonderful her children were. Ginny and Percy looked around smugly as the rest of the family gazed in appalled awe at the present to end all presents.
Given how the rest of her day had gone, it should not have been a shock to Ginny that this moment of triumph did not last very long. Before the happy tears had even dried on Molly's face, she had turned back to coo over the many jewels on the tree. Percy's bare one got no comment, as Ginny had failed to reassure her mother fully on the subject of whether he was a homosexual. Ginny knew for a fact he wasn't; she'd gone so far as to inform her brother that if she caught him shagging his girlfriend Thalia on his desk one more time, there would be a horrible vengeance in the near future. It wasn't that she disliked Thalia, but there were just some things a sister should just not see. Still, Molly was unsure enough of the subject to never mention anything about Percy's single status.
Ginny's branch, however, caused a deep and heartbroken sigh, and a statement of, "I suppose this one will just stay this way forever."
I will not say anything, Ginny told herself firmly, keeping a smile on her face by effort of will. It's her birthday, and she's just old-fashioned.
"I don't know, Ginny, if I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times, he won't buy the cow if he gets the milk for free," Molly continued, blithely oblivious to the building explosion that had Percy edging away cautiously. "Although I'll never understand what you see in that boy in any case."
Ron took one look at Ginny's face and decided to speak up in the desperate hope of preventing disaster. "He loves her, Mum. He has since Hogwarts."
"Hmph," was Molly's response. "Well, that's as may be, but if he loves her so much, why isn't she good enough for him to marry?" Ginny's eyes closed and the twins didn't bother with finesse as they scrambled to get to the other side of the room. "Oh, Ginny, I know that you're stubborn," she continued, patting her daughter's hand and looking at her with sympathy. "But you're not getting any younger, dear. By your age I already had Bill, and Charlie was on his way."
"Now, Molly," said Arthur, in the tone that usually served to warn her about dangerous ground in dealing with the daughter she didn't understand in the slightest.
It failed this time. "I just worry about you, darling. There's not that many boys from decent families, let alone unattached ones, and you've already let several good ones slip through your fingers." Harry practically dove behind Luna to avoid Molly's significant glance, holding his wife in front of him like a shield.
"That's IT," said Ginny, in the quiet tones that were only ever hers when she was beyond fury and into the realm of pure rage. "Mum, you don't know him, and you don't know me if you can say this... This... Crap!"
"Ginevra Molly Weasley, you will not use such language when you speak to me!" Molly said, her hands flying to her hips.
Ginny's pose mimicked hers exactly as she shouted back, "And you won't say such foul things about me and Draco!"
"I'm only saying the truth, which you'd know if you'd open your eyes! I want grandchildren! I can't dandle your career on my knee, now can I?"
Ginny looked pointedly around the room, where enough grandchildren to have two full quidditch teams, plus alternates, were sitting in dead silence. "I hardly think you lack those, Mum. Admit it, you just don't like Draco because you're a prejudiced snob!"
"Well, I never!" Molly raised a hand to her heart in shock. "I would never be anything so foul, unlike that boy who you insist on allowing to besmirch your reputation! Why, he hasn't even set foot in this house since--"
"Since he came here and was the very soul of courtesy, despite being treated with downright rudeness?" Ginny said icily. "I seem to recall that before the evening was over, Draco had suffered quite a few pranks and endured several hexes, all with perfect grace, and you just shoved him aside in order to ask George if he wanted more tea!"
"And poor George never got his tea, did he?" said Molly. "No, instead he had to go to St. Mungo's to get hexes removed!"
"A shame, really," Ginny sneered. "Since he stumbled in front of Fred before he could take his own hexing like a man."
"It was all that boy!"
"No, mum," said Ginny. "The bad manners were all on your part, and my miserable excuses for brothers. And the hexing was all me."
"You?" Molly looked taken aback for a moment, then rallied. "If he makes you turn against your own family, you shouldn't have anything more to do with that boy. You can move back into your old room tonight, and the boys will go over--"
"NO!" The entire room flinched at Ginny's bellow. "If you make me choose between my family and my-- My Draco, you won't like the result!"
This time it was Molly who was cold with rage. "I see. Then perhaps my family home is not where you should be."
"Perhaps not," Ginny snarled, turning on her heel to stalk away, out of the Burrow and down the lane, past the orchards, the same path she'd walked hundreds of times when she lived at home and she and her mother had butted heads.
She'd walked for most of an hour when it started to rain. At first she ignored it, but then the light sprinkle turned into a solid vertical sheet of water, and she dug in her pockets for her wand before remembering that she had set it down on the kitchen table after fixing up a salad and then never picked it up again.
After a moment that involved a certain amount of thunking her forehead against her hand, Ginny decided that she'd better show enough sense to get in out of the rain. Since the Burrow was not an option, she turned up the hill to where Luna's father still lived, hoping like hell he'd be home and willing to apparate her. Given the way her luck was running today, however, he was sure to have left for a year-long journey to Timbuktu.
She almost pissed herself when, just as she was about to reach the front door, the bushes stood up and said, "Oh, hello, Gin."
Once she managed to stop shrieking, and her heartbeat had settled down to merely racing, she choked out, "Mr. Lovegood, you startled me!"
"Oh, tosh, how many times have I told you to call me Egbert? After all, if things had gone different, I'd be your father-in-law." Ginny blinked, wondering just how much water had got in her ear. "Always wanted my little Luna to be a lesbian. No boy good enough for her, you know? But she wanted that Harry, and he seems to make her happy."
Ginny found she had absolutely nothing to say. Her mouth, however, responded automatically with "Thank you," as being shocked had never been an excuse for bad manners under the reign of Molly Weasley.
"But, that's all water under the bridge, although Luna'd have done well not to let you slip through her fingers." Not even manners instilled down to the bone could drag a sound out of Ginny now. Cheerfully oblivious, Mr. Lovegood continued, "So, have you come to hunt for snipe with me?"
She was either going to laugh or cry, and laughing would be rude. Ginny burst into noisy sobs, sending Mr. Lovegood into a distinct tizzy. "It's all right, dear, it's all right. We'll find them next time!" At that Ginny had to cover her face, because the laughter came anyway, along with the tears. He handed her a flask of something and told her to drink up, and she obeyed. The warmed brandy seemed to burn away the lining of her esophagus, but she did feel a tiny bit less chilled.
"I..." she hiccupped and swiped at her running nose before continuing plaintively, "I want to go home!"
"Of course, dear, of course," he said soothingly. "We'll just nip inside for a moment and floo you back to the Burrow."
"No!" she shouted, making Mr. Lovegood take a worried step back. "I want to go back to my flat in London." She managed to calm down a bit and, more softly, said, "Please sir, can you apparate me home."
"Oh, my dear, I would love to," he said, giving Ginny a dawning sense of hope before he sent her crashing back down to earth. "But I'm afraid I can't. A, um, small misunderstanding led to the Ministry taking away my license." Ginny's face crumpled once more and she wondered what she could have ever done to be reaping such awful karma. Mr. Lovegood patted her arm a bit awkwardly and said, "Chin up, love, there's always the floo. It's a bit messy, but it'll get you there."
Ginny followed him inside, a drowned weasel with drooping shoulders. No wonder no one loved her, she thought with a fairly large amount of self-pity. She must have been Grindelwald in her last life, and was just now starting to pay for his crimes. She was going to get to the Manor only to find Narcissa actually hated her, and that Draco was in love with Hermione, who was going to leave Ron bereft. Then Harry would die and Voldemort would return, and then she'd be locked in a room with her mother forever, with no sharp implements. Only she wouldn't be able to get to the Manor, because their connection to the floo network was down. She'd have to go home, only there was no floo there, either; the closest hearth was at the Leaky Cauldron.
Fine, then. She'd just go there, then have Tom the bartender call the Knight Bus, which she'd pay for with money borrowed from Mr. Lovegood, then she'd curl up in her bed in order to die, miserable, cold and alone.
Mr. Lovegood was amenable to the plan, or at least the part she mentioned regarding the money and the floo. He pressed a small fortune into her hands and offered her another drink of the brandy before bringing her to the fireplace and wishing her luck. She snorted a bit at that, but he either didn't notice or thought it was just an aftereffect of crying, and he waved a cheerful goodbye as she shouted her destination and whirled off in a flicker of green flame.
Of course the Knight Bus wasn't running that night. And of course no one at the Cauldron had enough muggle money for her to trade galleons for in order to afford a taxi. How could it have been any different?
It was by this point ten thirty at night, and Ginny felt as if she hadn't slept in years. She followed a map that someone had produced, trying not to worry that it had "Map of Underground - New for 1978!" printed on the front, and eventually found a station, at which point she found a much larger map and an explanation of fees... And found she did not have quite enough money to make it all the way home. It wasn't until after she had bought a ticket and boarded the train that it occurred to her she might have been able to make her small horde of muggle coins go farther if she'd found a bus.
It might have cheered her to know that her rhythmic banging of her head against the window had frightened off two would-be muggers and a suspicious-looking fellow who had wanted to chat her up, but she was completely oblivious. Instead she simply waited for her stop, pulled herself together, and stepped out into the night to walk the mile and a bit remaining to get to her flat.
She'd apparently outrun the rainclouds, because she managed to get partially dry as she walked, only to have them catch up when she was still a fair distance from home. She could just see her block of flats in the distance, a blur of electric lights softened by the pouring rain, and she trudged grimly, feet sliding inside shoes that were never intended for hiking. As she drew closer and closer she could see that her own light was on, and she smiled a bit before continuing on, ignoring the blisters that had formed on her right heel and left toes. Maybe he wouldn't run off with Hermione after all.
At last she reached the door of her flat, which seemed like the gates of Paradise at this point. When he didn't answer her knock immediately, she checked her pockets and was somewhat shocked to find she actually had the key. Letting herself in, she called out, "Draco? I've had the worst day, you wouldn't believe..."
She stopped because there was no response, and decided that she must have just left the light on this morning herself. Sighing heavily, she pushed at her wet hair, only to have it fall back into her eyes as she stomped over to the fruit bowl she kept on the table in order to take the edge off the appetite she'd worked up while walking. She winced a bit as this caused a blister to burst open, and then growled as she noted the bowl was empty. Except, there was what seemed to be a squashed apple next to it on the table, which she seized it and brought it to her mouth, intent on appeasing her ravenous hunger.
Her howls as she clutched her jaw from the pain of breaking a tooth made a wet, naked Draco appear, holding his wand and looking around fiercely for something that was attacking her. "Ginny? What happened? What's wrong?"
"I bwoke a toof!" she shouted, and he pulled her hands away from her face to examine the damage.
"You certainly did," he said, clucking his tongue as he surveyed the damage. "Come on, let's go find a spell to fix it." He took her hand and pulled her down the hallway to the bathroom, where he took a towel off the rack and draped it over her wet hair. "Here, just wait here, I'll be right back."
She obeyed, sinking down to sit on the edge of the bathtub and feel very sorry for herself. He came back with an open book and his wand, and she looked up at him pitifully, sure that he would take her into his arms and tell her how very much he loved her. "You look like hell, Weasel. Your family started to go in for the Cinderella routine?"
Her glare was beyond frosty, and only slightly hampered by the fact that she was still holding onto her aching mouth. He shook his head and said, "Open that big mouth of yours wide, darling, so you can get on with the shrieking like a fishwife." She complied, still glaring at him fiercely, and he consulted the book once more before swishing his wand and casting a spell to repair her tooth.
"You are an absolute shit and I just may hate you," she said.
"I love you, too, brat, but you still look like hell. Why don't you strip off and get in the shower while I go get some clothes on?" He took the towel off her head and draped it over the bar before giving her a light kiss on the forehead.
She looked up at him, still naked and completely unconcerned and said, "You could help, you know."
"I could," he said, walking out of the bathroom, "but if you're hungry enough to try to bite through metal, I think perhaps feeding you before ravishing you would be advisable."
Ginny scowled, but started to pull off the clothes that seemed frozen to her skin. She almost bit through her lip as she stepped into the shower and the hot water hit her blisters, but it felt too heavenly on the rest of her for her to care. Soon enough, she'd washed her hair and felt all her muscles relax, and she stepped out of the tub to find her favorite flannel dressing gown had been casually draped over the sink. After toweling off, she shrugged into it and smiled blissfully at the low-grade warming charm on it, then padded out towards the kitchen.
Halfway there, the lights flickered and then disappeared, and she managed to slip on something and land flat on her back. "I give up! I'm sorry for being Grindelwald!"
"Been moonlighting, have you?" said her amused boyfriend, the rat. Several candles flickered to life and she struggled painfully to a sitting position.
"Listen, chum, if you'd had the day I--" She hadn't looked around when she got home, but now she noticed the candles placed all around the room, half-guttered, as well as the rose petals scattered from the doorway to the dining table, which was laid with gleaming silverware and china that was far too expensive for her to own.
"If your electric hadn't gone out, there'd be soft music, but you know I'm rubbish with spells for that sort of thing," Draco said. "And if you'd gotten here when you were supposed to, the lasagna would have been warm."
"But..." She looked dazed as she pulled herself to her feet and walked over to the table. "Why all the fuss? Today isn't anything special."
The flickering light wouldn't let her be sure, but she thought Draco might have blushed. At any rate, he looked a bit uncomfortable as he said, "Well, it will be. I'm tired of waiting for you to develop any observational skills."
"Draco Malfoy, I am not in the mood--"
He cut her off by holding up the fruit she had tried to bite into earlier. "Recognize this at all, Gin? Something that only looks edible, but you've had for years?"
"It's my promise pomegranate," she said, feeling incredibly foolish for not recognizing it before. "What's it doing out here, it's supposed to be in the bedroom."
He rolled his eyes and tossed it at her. She had to step back a bit to catch it, making her yelp as she put weight on one of the popped blisters. "What've you done to yourself?" he asked, coming around the table to steady her when she would've fallen. "Sweet Circe, Gin, your feet are mangled! Why the hell didn't you heal these?"
"My wand's at Mum's," she muttered. He picked her up and swept off to the bedroom, which was also dominated by a candlelight and rose petals theme. "It looks very nice in here," she said, trying to sound cheery.
The scowl on his face did not budge in the slightest as he muttered about madwomen and dumped her on the bed before retrieving the first aid grimoire and putting it to good use. She smiled happily and burrowed into the pillows as his gentle hands slid over her newly recovered skin, checking for any spots the spell might have missed. "You know," she said, "I really could wait in order to eat."
"First things first," he said. "Look at the pomegranate."
She did. "It's very lifelike. Now can we get on with the shagging?"
He made a noise of pure exasperation. "In all the years you've had the bloody thing, has it never once occurred to you to open it?"
"Um... No?" She rolled it around in her palms and for the first time noticed the grooves on its surface formed a pattern. "So it's a puzzle?"
"Excellent start, Weasley. At this rate, we'll be married in, oh, a century." Her shocked jerk at his words made the pomegranate fly from her hands to crash against the ceiling, ricochet against a wall, and then bounce over the nightstand and against the headboard, where the pieces rained down over her head. "Or you could just try brute force."
She shook her head, bits of shattered pomegranate falling from her hair, and one other thing. "A ring?"
"The betrothal ring of the Malfoys."
"Oh."
It was large, ostentatious, and completely gaudy in a way her mother would think classy. As she stared at it, he said, "Not all of my ancestors had taste, but it's traditional."
Ginny's mind was reeling. "You're asking me to marry you?"
"I suppose you could say that, although I think of it more as demanding you make an honest man of me," he said.
She shook her head a bit, but rallied and said cheekily, "And what if I say no?"
He picked a stray piece of the puzzle box out of her hair, then ran his hand gently down the side of her face. His grey eyes were soft and loving as he said, "Ah, then, you see, I withhold sex."
"Can't have that," she said, stifling a giggle as she slipped the ring onto the third finger of her left hand. "Now come show me some of the benefits of my new position."
Much later, as she yawned and snuggled against the pillows while he went to return the lasagna he'd made to the fridge, she thought that, despite everything, this just might qualify as the best day of her life.
It had been an absolutely rotten day. She had gotten up early in order to make sure her flat was clean and ready for inspection by the landlord before she left for work. Or, at least, she had intended to, but her neighbors had felt the need to have a very loud, drunken party until two in the morning, at which time the police had arrived and then it had switched to loud, drunken arguing. Only knowing the punishment for using spells on muggles carried double the punishment kept her from crawling out of bed to cause a rash of Bat-Bogeys to infest the flat next door. And so instead of waking up early, she slept past the alarm and woke five minutes before she was supposed to be at work.
"Shit!" Her wand, of course, had rolled somewhere under the bed, so she shoved the tangled mess of red curls out of her eyes and wriggled amidst the intimidatingly large dust bunnies until she juuuuust managed to get a hold of it... Only to have it roll away to rest against the wall, well out of her reach. Her choices being to move a solid oak bedframe or to retrieve the wand with a broom, she snagged a broom from the kitchen, only realizing after she had jabbed it against the wall a few times that it was her boyfriend's new racing broom and not the cheap affair she kept around in order to appease the landlord when he did his monthly inspections. Honestly, one time that her flat was coated in slime and he watched her like a hawk. She had to make a show of leaving every day or he'd ask awkward questions. If only she could have found an affordable flat in the wizard section of London!
She gritted her teeth and mentally sneered at the small voice inside her head that pointed out that her boyfriend did not lack money, and would have been more than happy for her to take up residence with him in any place she cared to name. She wouldn't even have to work. All she would have to do would be to lounge around all day and be his.
"I'm an independent, adult woman," she muttered, jabbing the broom at her wand once more, although a bit more gently. It finally rolled towards her and she stood, feeling triumphant, until her eye fell on her clock, which now read five minutes after she was due at work, and then on the mirror, which showed her hair had turned grey from its dust coating. "I neither want nor need for Draco Malfoy to take care of me."
That being said, and firmly enough that she could almost convince herself she fully believed it, she used her wand to clean herself, and her flat, before she scrambled into her clothing and apparated to the Ministry, only to come eyeball to nostril with her older brother, who also happened to be her boss.
After an utterly humiliating lecture on the subject of punctuality and the need to scrupulously avoid even the appearance of nepotism, Percy announced he was docking her pay, patted her shoulder awkwardly, then wished her happy birthday. She'd looked at him in confusion and then said a word that had him frowning and preparing to start on a lecture about proper office decorum. She cut it off in mid-stream by saying, "Perce, it's not my birthday, it's Mum's."
"Oh, fuck." She didn't dare giggle. For one thing, she agreed with the sentiment, and for another, he'd never forgive her for it. Her resolve was hard pressed, though, when he said, "Look, just sign my name to yours, and we--"
"I can't," she said.
He scowled. "Look, if this is about docking your pay--"
"No, I mean, literally, I can't. I haven't bought anything for her yet, either." She really wanted to find it funny, the way that his face went through stages that included shock, aggravation, and sheer, pants-wetting terror, but she could empathize all too well. Molly Weasley’s birthday wasn’t quite a national holiday, but to appear without a suitable gift would mean banishment to the far end of the table, where any food that got passed to you was ice cold, as if to illustrate the wintry chill of Molly’s disfavor. The twins had spent one memorable Christmas dinner with absolutely nothing to eat, simply for presenting their mum with a quidditch broom wrapped in dissolving wrapping paper. She shuddered a bit, then said, “Look, I can go out—“
“No, you need to sort out this business with the Zabinis first. I don’t know what all they’re asking for now, but I don’t trust them not to be trying something sneaky.” Percy shook his head and shoved an over-full file into her hands, then picked up a cage full of fluttering paper airplanes and hooked it onto her finger. “Make sure it’s done by lunchtime.”
With that, he left her cramped office, completely ignoring the death glare she sent to his back. Muttering about stupid, sadistic swine and trying to come up with another sibilant adjective, she opened the cage door to get one of the airplanes out and then had to spend ten minutes chasing down all the ones that had escaped. When she finally got to sit down and look over the file, she found the problem easily enough; buried in the fine print, there was a clause that would bind the Ministry to only buy certain items from Zabini Enterprises and not seek competitive bids, price to be fair market value as determined by Zabini Enterprises.
She snorted in disdain at the parchment then crossed out all of the relevant sections with a flourish. The indulgence in smugness was a mistake, as the quill broke and leaked ink over the entire parchment, and her hands. She sighed and looked around for something to wipe her hands on, but before she could find anything, a dark figure loomed in her doorway.
“Troubles, Miss Weasley?” he said smoothly, handing her a large and impeccably starched square of the finest white linen.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” she said, snatching the handkerchief out of his hands with bad grace. “Come to see if I’ve suddenly gone stupid, Mister Zabini?”
His eyes went wide with a look of utter innocence. “Why, my dear Miss Weasley, you know I hold you in the highest regard! I’m appalled you should make such a slur upon my character.”
Her eyes narrowed and she folded her hands together, ignoring the feeling of ink sliding against her skin. She and Blaise Zabini had been playing this game ever since she had joined the Ministry and become, as Draco put it, the unofficial Slytherin spotter. Percy had received several glowing commendations from the Ministry and was considered a fast-rising star because his department had the most efficient and cost-effective budget of any, due entirely to Ginny being able to read contracts and find exactly where the hidden costs were. She sighed internally at how this didn’t even translate to a bit of understanding when she was unavoidably delayed, then got down to the business of serious negotiation.
An hour and a half later, a workable contract was finally signed, and the unholy irritant that was her boyfriend’s best friend smirked at her once more before leaving. As soon as she was sure he was gone, she crossed her arms on her desk and let her head fall forward to hit its surface with her forehead. She had, however, forgotten about the ink.
She didn’t remember about it until after she’d stormed Percy’s office and demanded the afternoon off with pay in order to go secure a gift from the both of them. He’d protested, although somewhat weakly, staring at her as if she was from another planet. Eventually they’d come to the agreement that she would go shopping and take as long as she needed, but the pay she was docked would come from Percy’s pocket and not the Ministry’s. Just before she left, he looked at her forehead again and said, “Um, Gin? You’ve got a bit of something on your face…”
After scrubbing her face hard enough that the redness was not completely due to blushing, she set out to find the perfect gift for her mother in less than four hours. She started in Diagon Alley, then worked her way through the shops on Domestick Alley, then on through Joolers Row, then ventured out to Muggle London in desperation.
Finally, a half an hour before she was due at home, scrubbed and polished and ready to celebrate, she had a flash of inspiration and started to rush back to a small shop in Joolers Row. It was tiny and shabby and completely out of place amongst the flashy boutiques all around it, but the only reason she was even allowed in the door was because Draco had bought her several baubles there; otherwise, it was much too exclusive to cater to any but the absolute filthiest rich clientele. Her gabbled explanation resulted in the proprietor sucking in his cheeks and looking at her warily. “Madame shall have whatever she wants, but isn’t it a bit ta-- Gaudy?”
“It’s for my mum,” she said, and he nodded in understanding before getting to work. Finally it was done, and she thanked him effusively as he wrapped it carefully in white silk, then conjured up a truly hideous bag decorated with red and gold sparkles and “Happy birthday!!” in flashing lights. “Oh, my. She’ll love it!”
The little old man nodded, then said, “Just don’t tell anyone that it was my shop you bought it at. I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”
She thanked him again and snatched it up, knowing from previous visits that she would offend him mightily if she attempted to pay him now, rather than waiting for the discreet invoice that would appear at her flat within a week or two. She fumbled with the unwieldy package, then pulled her wand out and apparated to the Burrow.
"Ginny, at last, I was getting so worried!" Molly attempted to smother her youngest child in a tight hug, but was thwarted by the size of the parcel.
"Sorry, Mum, I was picking this up and, well, you know how shopkeepers like to make you wait." This was, technically speaking, not true. Ever since the first time Narcissa had taken her along on a whirlwind shopping trip and made it quite clear that Ginny's status was to be more Malfoy than Weasley, shopkeepers tended to trip over themselves in order to wait on her immediately. Still, it was harmless enough, like the thousands of other tiny lies that she had to tell in order to smooth maternal relations.
Molly nodded and towed her along to the living room, where the coffee table was loaded down with wrapped parcels. "You'd think it was them that had to give you money and not the other way around, and that's the truth." As soon as the package was safely placed amidst the rest of the tribute, Molly gathered Ginny close and beamed. "It's so nice to have all the family here. Everyone I love, under one roof."
A weak smile was all Molly got in return, as her daughter was mentally counting to ten in order not to mention the way that Draco had pointedly not been mentioned. He wouldn't have come, of course; the one time he had, it had all ended in hexes. Once they entered the dining room, a discreet nod between siblings made Percy relax considerably, and the traditional early dinner and cake ceremonies proceeded apace. Sure, her head might feel like it was on the point of explosion, given that each of her brothers, and her brothers' wives, and any number of redheaded brats were all banging cutlery and shouting to hear each other and, in certain cases, making things explode. Molly smiled indulgently over them all, and Ginny just ate quietly and tried not to count the minutes until festivities involving most of her nearest and dearest were finally over.
At last, it was time to take plates full of cake and ice cream out to the living room, where everyone would attempt to find a place to sit while they waited to find out who would be graced with the position of favorite from then until Christmas. Ginny scrambled to make sure her present was placed so as to be opened last - thus allowing the others to gain hope before being crushed like bugs in the face of the glorious tackiness that was the gift she'd brought. She sneaked a tag on it and waited, smirking as Molly unwrapped silk robes and platinum kitchenware and all sorts of gifts that had Percy looking at nervously at his sister for reassurance.
Molly wiped away a tear as she closed the box which held Harry's gift, a set of diamonds fit for a duchess, and said, "It's lovely dear, and much too good for me. You know I always say, the only truly valuable jewels are my family."
Harry blushed a bit and grinned smugly at the others as Molly gave him an enormous hug and a kiss on the cheek. Several of the boys looked quite disgruntled, but perked up when they caught sight of Ginny's expression. "You've still got one more, dearest," said Arthur, who watched the gift war from a safe distance with some amusement.
"Oh, of course!" Molly cried, turning back to where the parcel stood in its gold and red flashing glory. "Let's see, this one is from darling Percy, and Ginny dear, and... That Draco boy."
Ginny's teeth were instantly on edge, but she swallowed back the words that had leapt to her mind and instead just smiled, if a bit fixedly. It was left to Percy to say, "We really hope you like it, Mum. It's not much, but... Happy birthday!" The ceremonial words being spoken, the wrapping paper was duly taken off carefully, for use in wrapping later packages, and the white silk exclaimed over as being perfect for making a new nightdress, and then the actual present was revealed, leaving the onlookers speechless.
It was a tree, tiny gold leaves waving in a magical breeze that moved the gilt and silver branches. At the base of the tree were two large jewels, the birthstones for Molly and Arthur, and each of the eight branches held the birthstone of the seven Weasley children and Harry. From the branches of those who had gone forth to multiply dangled the birthstones of their wives and children, and a diamond studded silver banner along the base proclaimed that, "The only true jewels are family."
"Oh, Ginny," breathed Molly, giving her a split second to wonder if she'd made a mistake estimating her mother's taste. Before she could doubt seriously, she was engulfed in a tearful hug. "Ginny, it's beautiful! I've never seen anything so lovely in all my life!" Percy sidled closer and Molly switched her death grip to him, sobbing into his shirtfront about how thoughtful and wonderful her children were. Ginny and Percy looked around smugly as the rest of the family gazed in appalled awe at the present to end all presents.
Given how the rest of her day had gone, it should not have been a shock to Ginny that this moment of triumph did not last very long. Before the happy tears had even dried on Molly's face, she had turned back to coo over the many jewels on the tree. Percy's bare one got no comment, as Ginny had failed to reassure her mother fully on the subject of whether he was a homosexual. Ginny knew for a fact he wasn't; she'd gone so far as to inform her brother that if she caught him shagging his girlfriend Thalia on his desk one more time, there would be a horrible vengeance in the near future. It wasn't that she disliked Thalia, but there were just some things a sister should just not see. Still, Molly was unsure enough of the subject to never mention anything about Percy's single status.
Ginny's branch, however, caused a deep and heartbroken sigh, and a statement of, "I suppose this one will just stay this way forever."
I will not say anything, Ginny told herself firmly, keeping a smile on her face by effort of will. It's her birthday, and she's just old-fashioned.
"I don't know, Ginny, if I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times, he won't buy the cow if he gets the milk for free," Molly continued, blithely oblivious to the building explosion that had Percy edging away cautiously. "Although I'll never understand what you see in that boy in any case."
Ron took one look at Ginny's face and decided to speak up in the desperate hope of preventing disaster. "He loves her, Mum. He has since Hogwarts."
"Hmph," was Molly's response. "Well, that's as may be, but if he loves her so much, why isn't she good enough for him to marry?" Ginny's eyes closed and the twins didn't bother with finesse as they scrambled to get to the other side of the room. "Oh, Ginny, I know that you're stubborn," she continued, patting her daughter's hand and looking at her with sympathy. "But you're not getting any younger, dear. By your age I already had Bill, and Charlie was on his way."
"Now, Molly," said Arthur, in the tone that usually served to warn her about dangerous ground in dealing with the daughter she didn't understand in the slightest.
It failed this time. "I just worry about you, darling. There's not that many boys from decent families, let alone unattached ones, and you've already let several good ones slip through your fingers." Harry practically dove behind Luna to avoid Molly's significant glance, holding his wife in front of him like a shield.
"That's IT," said Ginny, in the quiet tones that were only ever hers when she was beyond fury and into the realm of pure rage. "Mum, you don't know him, and you don't know me if you can say this... This... Crap!"
"Ginevra Molly Weasley, you will not use such language when you speak to me!" Molly said, her hands flying to her hips.
Ginny's pose mimicked hers exactly as she shouted back, "And you won't say such foul things about me and Draco!"
"I'm only saying the truth, which you'd know if you'd open your eyes! I want grandchildren! I can't dandle your career on my knee, now can I?"
Ginny looked pointedly around the room, where enough grandchildren to have two full quidditch teams, plus alternates, were sitting in dead silence. "I hardly think you lack those, Mum. Admit it, you just don't like Draco because you're a prejudiced snob!"
"Well, I never!" Molly raised a hand to her heart in shock. "I would never be anything so foul, unlike that boy who you insist on allowing to besmirch your reputation! Why, he hasn't even set foot in this house since--"
"Since he came here and was the very soul of courtesy, despite being treated with downright rudeness?" Ginny said icily. "I seem to recall that before the evening was over, Draco had suffered quite a few pranks and endured several hexes, all with perfect grace, and you just shoved him aside in order to ask George if he wanted more tea!"
"And poor George never got his tea, did he?" said Molly. "No, instead he had to go to St. Mungo's to get hexes removed!"
"A shame, really," Ginny sneered. "Since he stumbled in front of Fred before he could take his own hexing like a man."
"It was all that boy!"
"No, mum," said Ginny. "The bad manners were all on your part, and my miserable excuses for brothers. And the hexing was all me."
"You?" Molly looked taken aback for a moment, then rallied. "If he makes you turn against your own family, you shouldn't have anything more to do with that boy. You can move back into your old room tonight, and the boys will go over--"
"NO!" The entire room flinched at Ginny's bellow. "If you make me choose between my family and my-- My Draco, you won't like the result!"
This time it was Molly who was cold with rage. "I see. Then perhaps my family home is not where you should be."
"Perhaps not," Ginny snarled, turning on her heel to stalk away, out of the Burrow and down the lane, past the orchards, the same path she'd walked hundreds of times when she lived at home and she and her mother had butted heads.
She'd walked for most of an hour when it started to rain. At first she ignored it, but then the light sprinkle turned into a solid vertical sheet of water, and she dug in her pockets for her wand before remembering that she had set it down on the kitchen table after fixing up a salad and then never picked it up again.
After a moment that involved a certain amount of thunking her forehead against her hand, Ginny decided that she'd better show enough sense to get in out of the rain. Since the Burrow was not an option, she turned up the hill to where Luna's father still lived, hoping like hell he'd be home and willing to apparate her. Given the way her luck was running today, however, he was sure to have left for a year-long journey to Timbuktu.
She almost pissed herself when, just as she was about to reach the front door, the bushes stood up and said, "Oh, hello, Gin."
Once she managed to stop shrieking, and her heartbeat had settled down to merely racing, she choked out, "Mr. Lovegood, you startled me!"
"Oh, tosh, how many times have I told you to call me Egbert? After all, if things had gone different, I'd be your father-in-law." Ginny blinked, wondering just how much water had got in her ear. "Always wanted my little Luna to be a lesbian. No boy good enough for her, you know? But she wanted that Harry, and he seems to make her happy."
Ginny found she had absolutely nothing to say. Her mouth, however, responded automatically with "Thank you," as being shocked had never been an excuse for bad manners under the reign of Molly Weasley.
"But, that's all water under the bridge, although Luna'd have done well not to let you slip through her fingers." Not even manners instilled down to the bone could drag a sound out of Ginny now. Cheerfully oblivious, Mr. Lovegood continued, "So, have you come to hunt for snipe with me?"
She was either going to laugh or cry, and laughing would be rude. Ginny burst into noisy sobs, sending Mr. Lovegood into a distinct tizzy. "It's all right, dear, it's all right. We'll find them next time!" At that Ginny had to cover her face, because the laughter came anyway, along with the tears. He handed her a flask of something and told her to drink up, and she obeyed. The warmed brandy seemed to burn away the lining of her esophagus, but she did feel a tiny bit less chilled.
"I..." she hiccupped and swiped at her running nose before continuing plaintively, "I want to go home!"
"Of course, dear, of course," he said soothingly. "We'll just nip inside for a moment and floo you back to the Burrow."
"No!" she shouted, making Mr. Lovegood take a worried step back. "I want to go back to my flat in London." She managed to calm down a bit and, more softly, said, "Please sir, can you apparate me home."
"Oh, my dear, I would love to," he said, giving Ginny a dawning sense of hope before he sent her crashing back down to earth. "But I'm afraid I can't. A, um, small misunderstanding led to the Ministry taking away my license." Ginny's face crumpled once more and she wondered what she could have ever done to be reaping such awful karma. Mr. Lovegood patted her arm a bit awkwardly and said, "Chin up, love, there's always the floo. It's a bit messy, but it'll get you there."
Ginny followed him inside, a drowned weasel with drooping shoulders. No wonder no one loved her, she thought with a fairly large amount of self-pity. She must have been Grindelwald in her last life, and was just now starting to pay for his crimes. She was going to get to the Manor only to find Narcissa actually hated her, and that Draco was in love with Hermione, who was going to leave Ron bereft. Then Harry would die and Voldemort would return, and then she'd be locked in a room with her mother forever, with no sharp implements. Only she wouldn't be able to get to the Manor, because their connection to the floo network was down. She'd have to go home, only there was no floo there, either; the closest hearth was at the Leaky Cauldron.
Fine, then. She'd just go there, then have Tom the bartender call the Knight Bus, which she'd pay for with money borrowed from Mr. Lovegood, then she'd curl up in her bed in order to die, miserable, cold and alone.
Mr. Lovegood was amenable to the plan, or at least the part she mentioned regarding the money and the floo. He pressed a small fortune into her hands and offered her another drink of the brandy before bringing her to the fireplace and wishing her luck. She snorted a bit at that, but he either didn't notice or thought it was just an aftereffect of crying, and he waved a cheerful goodbye as she shouted her destination and whirled off in a flicker of green flame.
Of course the Knight Bus wasn't running that night. And of course no one at the Cauldron had enough muggle money for her to trade galleons for in order to afford a taxi. How could it have been any different?
It was by this point ten thirty at night, and Ginny felt as if she hadn't slept in years. She followed a map that someone had produced, trying not to worry that it had "Map of Underground - New for 1978!" printed on the front, and eventually found a station, at which point she found a much larger map and an explanation of fees... And found she did not have quite enough money to make it all the way home. It wasn't until after she had bought a ticket and boarded the train that it occurred to her she might have been able to make her small horde of muggle coins go farther if she'd found a bus.
It might have cheered her to know that her rhythmic banging of her head against the window had frightened off two would-be muggers and a suspicious-looking fellow who had wanted to chat her up, but she was completely oblivious. Instead she simply waited for her stop, pulled herself together, and stepped out into the night to walk the mile and a bit remaining to get to her flat.
She'd apparently outrun the rainclouds, because she managed to get partially dry as she walked, only to have them catch up when she was still a fair distance from home. She could just see her block of flats in the distance, a blur of electric lights softened by the pouring rain, and she trudged grimly, feet sliding inside shoes that were never intended for hiking. As she drew closer and closer she could see that her own light was on, and she smiled a bit before continuing on, ignoring the blisters that had formed on her right heel and left toes. Maybe he wouldn't run off with Hermione after all.
At last she reached the door of her flat, which seemed like the gates of Paradise at this point. When he didn't answer her knock immediately, she checked her pockets and was somewhat shocked to find she actually had the key. Letting herself in, she called out, "Draco? I've had the worst day, you wouldn't believe..."
She stopped because there was no response, and decided that she must have just left the light on this morning herself. Sighing heavily, she pushed at her wet hair, only to have it fall back into her eyes as she stomped over to the fruit bowl she kept on the table in order to take the edge off the appetite she'd worked up while walking. She winced a bit as this caused a blister to burst open, and then growled as she noted the bowl was empty. Except, there was what seemed to be a squashed apple next to it on the table, which she seized it and brought it to her mouth, intent on appeasing her ravenous hunger.
Her howls as she clutched her jaw from the pain of breaking a tooth made a wet, naked Draco appear, holding his wand and looking around fiercely for something that was attacking her. "Ginny? What happened? What's wrong?"
"I bwoke a toof!" she shouted, and he pulled her hands away from her face to examine the damage.
"You certainly did," he said, clucking his tongue as he surveyed the damage. "Come on, let's go find a spell to fix it." He took her hand and pulled her down the hallway to the bathroom, where he took a towel off the rack and draped it over her wet hair. "Here, just wait here, I'll be right back."
She obeyed, sinking down to sit on the edge of the bathtub and feel very sorry for herself. He came back with an open book and his wand, and she looked up at him pitifully, sure that he would take her into his arms and tell her how very much he loved her. "You look like hell, Weasel. Your family started to go in for the Cinderella routine?"
Her glare was beyond frosty, and only slightly hampered by the fact that she was still holding onto her aching mouth. He shook his head and said, "Open that big mouth of yours wide, darling, so you can get on with the shrieking like a fishwife." She complied, still glaring at him fiercely, and he consulted the book once more before swishing his wand and casting a spell to repair her tooth.
"You are an absolute shit and I just may hate you," she said.
"I love you, too, brat, but you still look like hell. Why don't you strip off and get in the shower while I go get some clothes on?" He took the towel off her head and draped it over the bar before giving her a light kiss on the forehead.
She looked up at him, still naked and completely unconcerned and said, "You could help, you know."
"I could," he said, walking out of the bathroom, "but if you're hungry enough to try to bite through metal, I think perhaps feeding you before ravishing you would be advisable."
Ginny scowled, but started to pull off the clothes that seemed frozen to her skin. She almost bit through her lip as she stepped into the shower and the hot water hit her blisters, but it felt too heavenly on the rest of her for her to care. Soon enough, she'd washed her hair and felt all her muscles relax, and she stepped out of the tub to find her favorite flannel dressing gown had been casually draped over the sink. After toweling off, she shrugged into it and smiled blissfully at the low-grade warming charm on it, then padded out towards the kitchen.
Halfway there, the lights flickered and then disappeared, and she managed to slip on something and land flat on her back. "I give up! I'm sorry for being Grindelwald!"
"Been moonlighting, have you?" said her amused boyfriend, the rat. Several candles flickered to life and she struggled painfully to a sitting position.
"Listen, chum, if you'd had the day I--" She hadn't looked around when she got home, but now she noticed the candles placed all around the room, half-guttered, as well as the rose petals scattered from the doorway to the dining table, which was laid with gleaming silverware and china that was far too expensive for her to own.
"If your electric hadn't gone out, there'd be soft music, but you know I'm rubbish with spells for that sort of thing," Draco said. "And if you'd gotten here when you were supposed to, the lasagna would have been warm."
"But..." She looked dazed as she pulled herself to her feet and walked over to the table. "Why all the fuss? Today isn't anything special."
The flickering light wouldn't let her be sure, but she thought Draco might have blushed. At any rate, he looked a bit uncomfortable as he said, "Well, it will be. I'm tired of waiting for you to develop any observational skills."
"Draco Malfoy, I am not in the mood--"
He cut her off by holding up the fruit she had tried to bite into earlier. "Recognize this at all, Gin? Something that only looks edible, but you've had for years?"
"It's my promise pomegranate," she said, feeling incredibly foolish for not recognizing it before. "What's it doing out here, it's supposed to be in the bedroom."
He rolled his eyes and tossed it at her. She had to step back a bit to catch it, making her yelp as she put weight on one of the popped blisters. "What've you done to yourself?" he asked, coming around the table to steady her when she would've fallen. "Sweet Circe, Gin, your feet are mangled! Why the hell didn't you heal these?"
"My wand's at Mum's," she muttered. He picked her up and swept off to the bedroom, which was also dominated by a candlelight and rose petals theme. "It looks very nice in here," she said, trying to sound cheery.
The scowl on his face did not budge in the slightest as he muttered about madwomen and dumped her on the bed before retrieving the first aid grimoire and putting it to good use. She smiled happily and burrowed into the pillows as his gentle hands slid over her newly recovered skin, checking for any spots the spell might have missed. "You know," she said, "I really could wait in order to eat."
"First things first," he said. "Look at the pomegranate."
She did. "It's very lifelike. Now can we get on with the shagging?"
He made a noise of pure exasperation. "In all the years you've had the bloody thing, has it never once occurred to you to open it?"
"Um... No?" She rolled it around in her palms and for the first time noticed the grooves on its surface formed a pattern. "So it's a puzzle?"
"Excellent start, Weasley. At this rate, we'll be married in, oh, a century." Her shocked jerk at his words made the pomegranate fly from her hands to crash against the ceiling, ricochet against a wall, and then bounce over the nightstand and against the headboard, where the pieces rained down over her head. "Or you could just try brute force."
She shook her head, bits of shattered pomegranate falling from her hair, and one other thing. "A ring?"
"The betrothal ring of the Malfoys."
"Oh."
It was large, ostentatious, and completely gaudy in a way her mother would think classy. As she stared at it, he said, "Not all of my ancestors had taste, but it's traditional."
Ginny's mind was reeling. "You're asking me to marry you?"
"I suppose you could say that, although I think of it more as demanding you make an honest man of me," he said.
She shook her head a bit, but rallied and said cheekily, "And what if I say no?"
He picked a stray piece of the puzzle box out of her hair, then ran his hand gently down the side of her face. His grey eyes were soft and loving as he said, "Ah, then, you see, I withhold sex."
"Can't have that," she said, stifling a giggle as she slipped the ring onto the third finger of her left hand. "Now come show me some of the benefits of my new position."
Much later, as she yawned and snuggled against the pillows while he went to return the lasagna he'd made to the fridge, she thought that, despite everything, this just might qualify as the best day of her life.
The End.
Mynuet is the author of 71 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 42 members. Members who liked Ginny's Bad Day also liked 1524 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 42 members. Members who liked Ginny's Bad Day also liked 1524 other stories.
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