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He couldn’t remember ever feeling this uncomfortable. For someone who’d been turned into a ferret in front of the student body at large and whose parents had hosted Voldemort in their home on more than one occasion that was really saying something. And yet here he sat, the lone guest of the bride, while the groom’s side of the aisle seemed to overflow with well-wishers - many of them sporting ginger hair of the Weasley variety – feeling like some odd sort of insect on display.
Pansy owed him for this. She owed him big.
Weasel King (Ron, he could hear Pansy admonish him.) stood under a flowered arch with an expression that was halfway between bliss and nausea, the green-eyed savior of the wizarding world beside him. Typically, Potter’s hair stuck up at odd angles. Did the git not own a comb? He could defeat the Dark Lord, but he couldn’t master a simple cosmetic charm?
Pulled from his thoughts by the start of music, Draco turned to see the Weasley girl walking slowly down the aisle. He had to admit the emerald green, cocktail-length bridesmaid's dress worked very well for her. It accentuated the creamy glow of her skin and as she moved past him, Draco noted that her legs weren't half bad either. The bright summer sunlight was shining on her hair, revealing a variety of red shades blended in a much more fetching way than he remembered from their Hogwarts days. There wasn't any denying it. Ginny Weasley had grown into quite an attractive witch. His eyes followed her until she took her place, turning her face in the direction from which she'd just come as the music changed to signal the approach of the bride.
The guests rose as one, all focused on the vision in white moving towards the altar. Draco didn't really need to stand since there was no one to block his view, but far be it from him to buck tradition. He couldn’t help but smile at the openly content look on his best friend’s face as she took her final steps as Pansy Parkinson. As much as he would have preferred to see her with someone other than the freckle-faced git, Ron obviously made her happy and Draco would put up with him as long as that was the case. Pansy had stood by him through all his years of stupidity; he figured she was due the same sort of loyalty during hers.
He weathered the ceremony admirably, he thought. When the Weasley matriarch began boo-hooing about her baby boy, Draco made sure to turn his head before he rolled his eyes; and when a smallish red-haired boy announced rather loudly that his mummy was ‘up the duff’ again, he covered his snort with a cough. His forbearance was tested each time his attention wandered to the bridesmaid, however. Ginny Weasley seemed to take great pleasure in trying to break his control, her own laughter visible in her eyes and expression each time she caught him looking her way. Years of practice at masking his emotions paid off, however, and there was only one point at which Draco thought he might crack. And really, who could have blamed him? The girl was making fishy faces at him during her brother’s vows, for Salazar’s sake. No upbringing at all, he thought without any real condescension.
The reception was a loud and boisterous affair. After getting lost in the sea of ginger several times and dodging a number of explosives that the ones called Fred and George seemed to think appropriate for such a celebration, Draco finally managed to locate the newlyweds to offer his congratulations.
Smirking as he approached, he held his hand out to the Weasel. “Congratulations, Weasley. You’ve got the better end of this arrangement, I hope you realize.”
“I won’t argue that, Malfoy,” Ron returned evenly, taking Draco’s hand with an unnecessarily firm grip.
Watching the display with a bored expression, the bride gave a long-suffering sigh. “Are you planning to wish me well, Draco, or do I need to fetch a ruler and determine who has the biggest prick first?”
“That won’t be necessary, I wouldn’t embarrass Ron on his wedding day.” Pressing a kiss to her cheek, he looked at her with genuine affection. “I am happy for you, Pans. You deserve the best, and if Weasley’s managed to convince he’s it, I suppose that’s good enough for me.”
Her arms were around him in an instant. She spoke quietly, so only he could hear. “He’s good to me, Draco. I know you don’t see it, but I’m so glad you came today. It wouldn’t have felt right without you here.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” He pulled away gently, taking her hand and passing it to Ron. “Now go on and celebrate with your husband, Mrs. Weasley.”
As Ron led Pansy off to mingle and dance, Draco grabbed a glass of firewhisky and sat at a table far off to the side. He hadn’t lied, he was happy for Pansy. Glad that she’d found someone to be happy with. It was a bittersweet thing, though. They’d been a pair for almost as long as he could remember. Intended for one another as children, best friends when they discovered their own desires didn’t match their parents’. It was Pansy who stood by Draco when he realized the path his father had taken was the wrong one; Pansy who went with him to turn information over to the Order of the Phoenix. By the war’s end, they’d both been disowned and they were shunned by all the people they’d thought of as friends. It was a difficult adjustment, but they’d helped each other. Now she had Weasley for that.
“Sitting over there with all your friends, are you?”
Head popping up at the sound of a female voice, Draco was greeted by the sight of the mischievous bridesmaid who’d spent the ceremony trying to fluster him. “It would be more correct to say I’m sitting here with all of Pansy’s friends, as I’m just a guest at her wedding.”
“Fair enough.” Ginny flashed a grin as she came to sit with him. “You were looking awfully grave considering the occasion. You could try, I don’t know, joining in the festivities?”
Draco raised an eyebrow. “I’d thought of asking Potter to cut a rug, but I’d be crushed if he rejected me.”
“Your toes would be crushed if he accepted, more like,” she rejoined with a snort. “He might’ve defeated the most evil wizard the world has ever known, but Harry’s about as graceful as a Confunded troll. I, on the other hand, am the very picture of poise and polish.”
“I could tell that from the moment you looked at me with those charming fish lips.” Rising, Draco offered his arm. “If you’d care to dance, I’ll do my best to not to embarrass you.”
Ginny accepted with a laugh, and that was the last Draco sat until much later in the evening.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“I don’t know why we needed to invite Ginny for dinner tonight,” Ron grumbled as he set four place settings around the table.
Pansy’s face was all innocence, which her husband knew meant she was up to no good.
“Don’t you want to see your sister, darling?”
Ron pointed the fork in his hand at her accusingly. “You know that’s got nothing to do with it. Why invite her the same night as you’ve invited Malfoy?”
“Draco, darling,” she replied in a warning tone.
“Fine. Why invite Draco and Ginny over the same night?”
With a roll of her eyes, Pansy shrugged. “We don’t have any other single friends. I didn’t want either of them to feel like a third wheel. Now we’re all evened up. Boy, girl, boy, girl.”
She was saved from Ron’s retort by the doorbell, and Pansy gave a smug smile as she turned to greet their first guest.
Draco stood outside the flat with the requisite bottle of wine for his hosts. He was looking forward to seeing Pansy; he’d been trying to give her time to settle into her new life, but he’d missed her. It would have been preferable to spend time with his friend on his own, but he’d endure the company of the Weasel King if he had to.
“Draco!” Pansy said warmly, embracing him tightly before stepping aside so that he could enter. “Come in. It’s so good to see you.”
“You too, Pansy,” he replied, returning her hug. Stepping inside the small flat, Draco nodded at Ron. “Weasley.” The none-too-discreet clearing of a feminine throat brought a heavy sigh. “I mean, Ron.”
“Draco,” Ron returned.
Handing Pansy the bottle of wine he’d brought, Draco spent a few awkward moments with Ron while she carried it to the kitchen. Since it didn’t appear that Weasley was going to offer up any polite conversation, Draco ventured a lame attempt. “So, what do you think of the Harpies chances this year?”
They were interrupted, thankfully, by a sharp rap on the door, and before anyone could answer it, Ginny popped her head inside. “Hello. Sorry I’m late.” Her eyes fell on Draco with surprise and she leveled a pointed look at her sister-in-law. “Oh, Pansy didn’t mention you’d be here, Draco.”
“Surprise,” he said in dry humor. Pansy hadn’t mentioned that Ginny would be coming to him, either. Not that he minded particularly, but it smacked of matchmaking. Pans had been after him to find a girlfriend ever since she’d gotten serious about Ron. She gets a Weasley and suddenly decides everyone else needs one, too.
Pansy called them to the table and Ron poured them each a glass of wine. Leaning in toward Draco, Ginny whispered, “Now we watch to see if Pansy drinks. The last three Weasley brides came back from their honeymoon pregnant.”
Draco choked and turned wide eyes to Pansy as he gasped for air. He’d just gotten used to the idea of her marrying one of the red-haired brigade, thoughts of her breeding with Ron were not something Draco was ready to consider. He watched with bated breath until she raised her glass to her lips and sipped, an audible sigh of relief escaping as she did.
“Something wrong, Draco?” Pansy asked, her eyes narrowing slightly.
“No, not at all. Just enjoying my meal, Pans. Your cooking has really improved,” he teased.
Ron snorted.
Setting her glass down with a thunk, Pansy scowled at her husband. “Ron made it.”
A chorus of muffled snickers came from around the table until the glare from the most recent Mrs. Weasley silenced them.
Pansy turned her attention to Ginny and raised a brow. “Oh, you’re wearing your locket, Ginny. You like it, then? I’d hoped it would suit.”
Pink staining her cheeks, Ginny’s hand went to the silver oval that hung from her neck. “Yes, thank you. It’s perfect.”
Draco looked at the piece of jewelry. It was a pretty little charm, simple but elegant. The face had a series of intertwined vines engraved upon it, surrounding a scripted ‘G’. “It does suit you rather well. Do you have a pictures inside?”
Tightening her hand on the locket, Ginny shook her head. “No! I mean, not yet.”
They ate in relative silence for awhile, until Draco felt a poke in his side and jumped up with a rather effeminate titter. Clearing his throat, he took his seat again, shooting a level look at the young woman who’d been trying to get his attention. “Did you need something?”
Ginny didn’t even try to muffle the giggles. “I was wondering if you would pass the rolls. Sorry if I startled you.”
As Draco handed her the requested item, Pansy chimed in. “Oh, he wasn’t frightened. Draco is extremely ticklish. He can barely stand for someone to wiggle a finger at him.”
“Is that right?” Ginny asked with a mischievous smirk, waving her index finger at the man in question.
Glaring at each woman in turn, Draco scooted his chair farther from the offensive digit. “No. I’m not ticklish. Pansy just likes to tell tales.”
Pansy just smiled and took another sip of wine. “Of course, darling.”
It became a regular gathering, these Friday night dinners with Pansy, Ron and Ginny. Draco enjoyed seeing his oldest friend often, and over time he even began to like the Weasel King – a little. He discovered that his best friend’s husband was a keen strategist, and playing wizard’s chess with him was a real challenge. Ron also had a knack for pushing his sister’s buttons. Watching the two of them go after each other was highly entertaining, so long as you were quick enough to get out of the way when hexes started to fly.
Even when she wasn’t out for Ron’s blood, Ginny was fun. In her endless quest to get Draco to admit his ticklishness, she’d often try to catch him unaware, going for his side as she pretended to reach for something just beyond him or pinching his knee at the dinner table.
She could talk about anything. Ginny had quite an array of knowledge, but even when faced with a topic about which she knew nothing, she could ferret out enough information to take a position exactly opposite whoever she picked as her target for torment. Draco enjoyed sparring with her. With her quick wit and a penchant for mischief, conversation with Ginny was never dull. It was something he looked forward to.
And then one Friday, there were only three places at the dinner table.
“Isn’t Ginny coming?” Draco asked, a frown forming at the sight of the empty spot where she usually sat.
Ron and Pansy exchanged a look, and Pansy’s words were clipped when she answered. “No, she had other plans tonight.”
The news did not sit well with Draco. For months now they’d been meeting every Friday night. It was a routine. A standing engagement. How could she have other plans?
“What other plans?”
Rubbing the back of his neck, Ron shrugged, obviously uncomfortable. “Dunno exactly. She said something about meeting a bloke for dinner.”
Draco’s mouth dropped open. “She’s on a date?” Brow creased in agitation, he added stupidly, “But it’s Friday night!”
“Generally thought of as a good time for such things, darling,” Pansy retorted in a bored tone. “What are you so concerned about anyway? It’s not as though you’re dating her. Why should you care if someone else does?”
“I don’t care…” And then he realized that he did care. Quite a lot, in fact. He didn’t want Ginny out with some other man when she was supposed to be here with him, talking and sneaking up on him with casual touches. “Where is she?”
Ron looked mildly surprised, but Pansy had a ready answer. “I believe she mentioned a place called Dante’s. Probably one of those romantic little Italian places with drippy candles.”
He knew exactly the place she was talking about. It was romantic, and it did have drippy candles. It was an ideal place to take a date if you wanted to make a good impression. “Bloody hell,” Draco muttered, heading for the door.
“Draco? Don’t you want to stay and eat?” Pansy called after him, but it was too late. He was gone.
Wrapping an arm around his wife, Ron leaned down and kissed her hair. “You really are devious sometimes.”
Pansy’s face was a picture of satisfaction. “Yes. Yes, I am.”
Draco apparated to the restaurant and stormed past the hostess. Spotting Ginny at a table in the corner, he went straight to her, coming to a stop beside her table. She started to smile up at him, but seeing his expression, her own changed to one of confusion.
“Where’s your date?” Draco demanded.
Ginny blinked. “What?”
“Because I’m going to tell him to bugger off. It’s Friday night. Our night. The night I look forward to all week.” His head swiveled, searching for the interloper who had thrown a wrench in the works.
“But Pansy said… Draco, there’s no need to –“ she began, but he cut her off.
“No need?” he exclaimed, sinking into the chair across from her and taking her hand. “I don’t want to lose our Friday nights, Ginny. I don’t want to lose you.”
The corners of Ginny’s mouth turned upward and she pulled her hand away from Draco. Reaching behind her neck, she unclasped the locket she always wore.
Placing it in Draco’s hand, she said, “There is no other date, Draco. I was waiting for you. Pansy told me you’d meet me here.”
“Waiting for me?” he asked, confused as he turned the locket in his fingers.
“Open it.”
With a curious glance at the beautiful witch across from him, Draco opened the locket to find a picture from Pansy and Ron’s wedding reception. Ginny was in his arms as they twirled around the garden behind the Burrow in perpetual motion.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The following summer Draco stood under a flowered arch, feeling alternately blissful and nauseas. To his left was a tall, red-haired fellow with the kind of knowing expression that only men who have already been through a day such as this one can wear. The bride’s guests were packed tightly on their side of the aisle, with more than one new arrival since the last wedding took place in this spot.
There was only one person seated on the groom’s side, a pretty, brunette witch with a turned-up nose and a burgeoning belly. Draco smiled at her as the music began to play. Turning his head to watch Ginny march slowly towards him to become his wife, he decided that Pansy had paid him back very well indeed.
Pansy owed him for this. She owed him big.
Weasel King (Ron, he could hear Pansy admonish him.) stood under a flowered arch with an expression that was halfway between bliss and nausea, the green-eyed savior of the wizarding world beside him. Typically, Potter’s hair stuck up at odd angles. Did the git not own a comb? He could defeat the Dark Lord, but he couldn’t master a simple cosmetic charm?
Pulled from his thoughts by the start of music, Draco turned to see the Weasley girl walking slowly down the aisle. He had to admit the emerald green, cocktail-length bridesmaid's dress worked very well for her. It accentuated the creamy glow of her skin and as she moved past him, Draco noted that her legs weren't half bad either. The bright summer sunlight was shining on her hair, revealing a variety of red shades blended in a much more fetching way than he remembered from their Hogwarts days. There wasn't any denying it. Ginny Weasley had grown into quite an attractive witch. His eyes followed her until she took her place, turning her face in the direction from which she'd just come as the music changed to signal the approach of the bride.
The guests rose as one, all focused on the vision in white moving towards the altar. Draco didn't really need to stand since there was no one to block his view, but far be it from him to buck tradition. He couldn’t help but smile at the openly content look on his best friend’s face as she took her final steps as Pansy Parkinson. As much as he would have preferred to see her with someone other than the freckle-faced git, Ron obviously made her happy and Draco would put up with him as long as that was the case. Pansy had stood by him through all his years of stupidity; he figured she was due the same sort of loyalty during hers.
He weathered the ceremony admirably, he thought. When the Weasley matriarch began boo-hooing about her baby boy, Draco made sure to turn his head before he rolled his eyes; and when a smallish red-haired boy announced rather loudly that his mummy was ‘up the duff’ again, he covered his snort with a cough. His forbearance was tested each time his attention wandered to the bridesmaid, however. Ginny Weasley seemed to take great pleasure in trying to break his control, her own laughter visible in her eyes and expression each time she caught him looking her way. Years of practice at masking his emotions paid off, however, and there was only one point at which Draco thought he might crack. And really, who could have blamed him? The girl was making fishy faces at him during her brother’s vows, for Salazar’s sake. No upbringing at all, he thought without any real condescension.
The reception was a loud and boisterous affair. After getting lost in the sea of ginger several times and dodging a number of explosives that the ones called Fred and George seemed to think appropriate for such a celebration, Draco finally managed to locate the newlyweds to offer his congratulations.
Smirking as he approached, he held his hand out to the Weasel. “Congratulations, Weasley. You’ve got the better end of this arrangement, I hope you realize.”
“I won’t argue that, Malfoy,” Ron returned evenly, taking Draco’s hand with an unnecessarily firm grip.
Watching the display with a bored expression, the bride gave a long-suffering sigh. “Are you planning to wish me well, Draco, or do I need to fetch a ruler and determine who has the biggest prick first?”
“That won’t be necessary, I wouldn’t embarrass Ron on his wedding day.” Pressing a kiss to her cheek, he looked at her with genuine affection. “I am happy for you, Pans. You deserve the best, and if Weasley’s managed to convince he’s it, I suppose that’s good enough for me.”
Her arms were around him in an instant. She spoke quietly, so only he could hear. “He’s good to me, Draco. I know you don’t see it, but I’m so glad you came today. It wouldn’t have felt right without you here.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” He pulled away gently, taking her hand and passing it to Ron. “Now go on and celebrate with your husband, Mrs. Weasley.”
As Ron led Pansy off to mingle and dance, Draco grabbed a glass of firewhisky and sat at a table far off to the side. He hadn’t lied, he was happy for Pansy. Glad that she’d found someone to be happy with. It was a bittersweet thing, though. They’d been a pair for almost as long as he could remember. Intended for one another as children, best friends when they discovered their own desires didn’t match their parents’. It was Pansy who stood by Draco when he realized the path his father had taken was the wrong one; Pansy who went with him to turn information over to the Order of the Phoenix. By the war’s end, they’d both been disowned and they were shunned by all the people they’d thought of as friends. It was a difficult adjustment, but they’d helped each other. Now she had Weasley for that.
“Sitting over there with all your friends, are you?”
Head popping up at the sound of a female voice, Draco was greeted by the sight of the mischievous bridesmaid who’d spent the ceremony trying to fluster him. “It would be more correct to say I’m sitting here with all of Pansy’s friends, as I’m just a guest at her wedding.”
“Fair enough.” Ginny flashed a grin as she came to sit with him. “You were looking awfully grave considering the occasion. You could try, I don’t know, joining in the festivities?”
Draco raised an eyebrow. “I’d thought of asking Potter to cut a rug, but I’d be crushed if he rejected me.”
“Your toes would be crushed if he accepted, more like,” she rejoined with a snort. “He might’ve defeated the most evil wizard the world has ever known, but Harry’s about as graceful as a Confunded troll. I, on the other hand, am the very picture of poise and polish.”
“I could tell that from the moment you looked at me with those charming fish lips.” Rising, Draco offered his arm. “If you’d care to dance, I’ll do my best to not to embarrass you.”
Ginny accepted with a laugh, and that was the last Draco sat until much later in the evening.
“I don’t know why we needed to invite Ginny for dinner tonight,” Ron grumbled as he set four place settings around the table.
Pansy’s face was all innocence, which her husband knew meant she was up to no good.
“Don’t you want to see your sister, darling?”
Ron pointed the fork in his hand at her accusingly. “You know that’s got nothing to do with it. Why invite her the same night as you’ve invited Malfoy?”
“Draco, darling,” she replied in a warning tone.
“Fine. Why invite Draco and Ginny over the same night?”
With a roll of her eyes, Pansy shrugged. “We don’t have any other single friends. I didn’t want either of them to feel like a third wheel. Now we’re all evened up. Boy, girl, boy, girl.”
She was saved from Ron’s retort by the doorbell, and Pansy gave a smug smile as she turned to greet their first guest.
Draco stood outside the flat with the requisite bottle of wine for his hosts. He was looking forward to seeing Pansy; he’d been trying to give her time to settle into her new life, but he’d missed her. It would have been preferable to spend time with his friend on his own, but he’d endure the company of the Weasel King if he had to.
“Draco!” Pansy said warmly, embracing him tightly before stepping aside so that he could enter. “Come in. It’s so good to see you.”
“You too, Pansy,” he replied, returning her hug. Stepping inside the small flat, Draco nodded at Ron. “Weasley.” The none-too-discreet clearing of a feminine throat brought a heavy sigh. “I mean, Ron.”
“Draco,” Ron returned.
Handing Pansy the bottle of wine he’d brought, Draco spent a few awkward moments with Ron while she carried it to the kitchen. Since it didn’t appear that Weasley was going to offer up any polite conversation, Draco ventured a lame attempt. “So, what do you think of the Harpies chances this year?”
They were interrupted, thankfully, by a sharp rap on the door, and before anyone could answer it, Ginny popped her head inside. “Hello. Sorry I’m late.” Her eyes fell on Draco with surprise and she leveled a pointed look at her sister-in-law. “Oh, Pansy didn’t mention you’d be here, Draco.”
“Surprise,” he said in dry humor. Pansy hadn’t mentioned that Ginny would be coming to him, either. Not that he minded particularly, but it smacked of matchmaking. Pans had been after him to find a girlfriend ever since she’d gotten serious about Ron. She gets a Weasley and suddenly decides everyone else needs one, too.
Pansy called them to the table and Ron poured them each a glass of wine. Leaning in toward Draco, Ginny whispered, “Now we watch to see if Pansy drinks. The last three Weasley brides came back from their honeymoon pregnant.”
Draco choked and turned wide eyes to Pansy as he gasped for air. He’d just gotten used to the idea of her marrying one of the red-haired brigade, thoughts of her breeding with Ron were not something Draco was ready to consider. He watched with bated breath until she raised her glass to her lips and sipped, an audible sigh of relief escaping as she did.
“Something wrong, Draco?” Pansy asked, her eyes narrowing slightly.
“No, not at all. Just enjoying my meal, Pans. Your cooking has really improved,” he teased.
Ron snorted.
Setting her glass down with a thunk, Pansy scowled at her husband. “Ron made it.”
A chorus of muffled snickers came from around the table until the glare from the most recent Mrs. Weasley silenced them.
Pansy turned her attention to Ginny and raised a brow. “Oh, you’re wearing your locket, Ginny. You like it, then? I’d hoped it would suit.”
Pink staining her cheeks, Ginny’s hand went to the silver oval that hung from her neck. “Yes, thank you. It’s perfect.”
Draco looked at the piece of jewelry. It was a pretty little charm, simple but elegant. The face had a series of intertwined vines engraved upon it, surrounding a scripted ‘G’. “It does suit you rather well. Do you have a pictures inside?”
Tightening her hand on the locket, Ginny shook her head. “No! I mean, not yet.”
They ate in relative silence for awhile, until Draco felt a poke in his side and jumped up with a rather effeminate titter. Clearing his throat, he took his seat again, shooting a level look at the young woman who’d been trying to get his attention. “Did you need something?”
Ginny didn’t even try to muffle the giggles. “I was wondering if you would pass the rolls. Sorry if I startled you.”
As Draco handed her the requested item, Pansy chimed in. “Oh, he wasn’t frightened. Draco is extremely ticklish. He can barely stand for someone to wiggle a finger at him.”
“Is that right?” Ginny asked with a mischievous smirk, waving her index finger at the man in question.
Glaring at each woman in turn, Draco scooted his chair farther from the offensive digit. “No. I’m not ticklish. Pansy just likes to tell tales.”
Pansy just smiled and took another sip of wine. “Of course, darling.”
It became a regular gathering, these Friday night dinners with Pansy, Ron and Ginny. Draco enjoyed seeing his oldest friend often, and over time he even began to like the Weasel King – a little. He discovered that his best friend’s husband was a keen strategist, and playing wizard’s chess with him was a real challenge. Ron also had a knack for pushing his sister’s buttons. Watching the two of them go after each other was highly entertaining, so long as you were quick enough to get out of the way when hexes started to fly.
Even when she wasn’t out for Ron’s blood, Ginny was fun. In her endless quest to get Draco to admit his ticklishness, she’d often try to catch him unaware, going for his side as she pretended to reach for something just beyond him or pinching his knee at the dinner table.
She could talk about anything. Ginny had quite an array of knowledge, but even when faced with a topic about which she knew nothing, she could ferret out enough information to take a position exactly opposite whoever she picked as her target for torment. Draco enjoyed sparring with her. With her quick wit and a penchant for mischief, conversation with Ginny was never dull. It was something he looked forward to.
And then one Friday, there were only three places at the dinner table.
“Isn’t Ginny coming?” Draco asked, a frown forming at the sight of the empty spot where she usually sat.
Ron and Pansy exchanged a look, and Pansy’s words were clipped when she answered. “No, she had other plans tonight.”
The news did not sit well with Draco. For months now they’d been meeting every Friday night. It was a routine. A standing engagement. How could she have other plans?
“What other plans?”
Rubbing the back of his neck, Ron shrugged, obviously uncomfortable. “Dunno exactly. She said something about meeting a bloke for dinner.”
Draco’s mouth dropped open. “She’s on a date?” Brow creased in agitation, he added stupidly, “But it’s Friday night!”
“Generally thought of as a good time for such things, darling,” Pansy retorted in a bored tone. “What are you so concerned about anyway? It’s not as though you’re dating her. Why should you care if someone else does?”
“I don’t care…” And then he realized that he did care. Quite a lot, in fact. He didn’t want Ginny out with some other man when she was supposed to be here with him, talking and sneaking up on him with casual touches. “Where is she?”
Ron looked mildly surprised, but Pansy had a ready answer. “I believe she mentioned a place called Dante’s. Probably one of those romantic little Italian places with drippy candles.”
He knew exactly the place she was talking about. It was romantic, and it did have drippy candles. It was an ideal place to take a date if you wanted to make a good impression. “Bloody hell,” Draco muttered, heading for the door.
“Draco? Don’t you want to stay and eat?” Pansy called after him, but it was too late. He was gone.
Wrapping an arm around his wife, Ron leaned down and kissed her hair. “You really are devious sometimes.”
Pansy’s face was a picture of satisfaction. “Yes. Yes, I am.”
Draco apparated to the restaurant and stormed past the hostess. Spotting Ginny at a table in the corner, he went straight to her, coming to a stop beside her table. She started to smile up at him, but seeing his expression, her own changed to one of confusion.
“Where’s your date?” Draco demanded.
Ginny blinked. “What?”
“Because I’m going to tell him to bugger off. It’s Friday night. Our night. The night I look forward to all week.” His head swiveled, searching for the interloper who had thrown a wrench in the works.
“But Pansy said… Draco, there’s no need to –“ she began, but he cut her off.
“No need?” he exclaimed, sinking into the chair across from her and taking her hand. “I don’t want to lose our Friday nights, Ginny. I don’t want to lose you.”
The corners of Ginny’s mouth turned upward and she pulled her hand away from Draco. Reaching behind her neck, she unclasped the locket she always wore.
Placing it in Draco’s hand, she said, “There is no other date, Draco. I was waiting for you. Pansy told me you’d meet me here.”
“Waiting for me?” he asked, confused as he turned the locket in his fingers.
“Open it.”
With a curious glance at the beautiful witch across from him, Draco opened the locket to find a picture from Pansy and Ron’s wedding reception. Ginny was in his arms as they twirled around the garden behind the Burrow in perpetual motion.
The following summer Draco stood under a flowered arch, feeling alternately blissful and nauseas. To his left was a tall, red-haired fellow with the kind of knowing expression that only men who have already been through a day such as this one can wear. The bride’s guests were packed tightly on their side of the aisle, with more than one new arrival since the last wedding took place in this spot.
There was only one person seated on the groom’s side, a pretty, brunette witch with a turned-up nose and a burgeoning belly. Draco smiled at her as the music began to play. Turning his head to watch Ginny march slowly towards him to become his wife, he decided that Pansy had paid him back very well indeed.
The End.
KateinVA is the author of 15 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 38 members. Members who liked Friday Night at the Weasleys' also liked 1437 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 38 members. Members who liked Friday Night at the Weasleys' also liked 1437 other stories.
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