Serendipity

~*~*~*~

serendipity /sεr(ə)n’dIpIti/ n. M18 [f. Serendip, -dib, said to be a former name of Sri Lanka (Ceylon) + -ITY; formed by Horace Walpole after the title of a fairy tale, Three Princes of Sarendip, the heroes of which ‘were always making discoveries, by accidents and sagacity, of things they were not in quest of’.] (A supposed talent for) the making of happy and unexpected discoveries by accident or when looking for something else; such a discovery. Also, loosely, good luck, good fortune.

~*~*~*~

Part I

Ginny sneezed three times in quick succession as she stepped into the lobby of the old Serendipity Theater. The light was dim. Dust hung heavy in the air, obstructing her view, but she could still see Sophie a few steps ahead.

“Watch out as you come through here,” Sophie said. “The fountain seems to have collapsed, and there’s a beam hanging from the ceiling.”

Ginny stepped delicately through the rubble. She shuddered when she recognized one piece: a marble hand. “Do you really think it will be possible to restore this place?” she asked. “It doesn’t seem to be in very good shape.”

“What did you expect?” Sophie asked, trying ineffectively to open a large door. “The theater has been abandoned since the war with Grindelwald.”

“I know,” Ginny said, as she reached out to help Sophie pull on the door handle. “I guess I just hadn’t considered quite what that meant.”

“Well, we certainly do have our work cut out for us,” Sophie said. “But it will be worth it. You’ll see.”

The door opened under their combined force and Ginny got her first glimpse of the theater. It was just as dusty as the lobby, but light filtered from a grand chandelier. Ginny stood still, taking in the wide dome of the ceiling, the graceful curve of the proscenium, and the elaborately carved woodwork of the boxes. The fabric was moth-eaten, the wood rotten, and the paint faded and chipped, but Ginny could easily picture how it must have looked in its heyday, when the ceiling had been frescoed, the woodwork highlighted with gilt, and the upholstery a rich velvet.

Ginny had fallen in love with Hogwarts the first time she had seen it, and she experienced the Serendipity the same way now. All of her doubts about the restoration were put to rest. Any amount of hard work would be worth it if she could see the theater at its best once more.

“Come on,” Sophie said, interrupting Ginny’s thoughts. “I’ll introduce you to my uncle.”

Montrose Bradley was a rotund man with a full blond beard, bald head, and rosy cheeks. He greeted Ginny with a wide smile and a firm handshake. “Welcome, welcome,” he said heartily. “You call me Monty and I’ll call you Ginny and we’ll get along famously!”

“Okay, Monty,” Ginny said happily; she liked him already. “I’m happy to help.”

“We need all the help we can get, as you can well see,” Monty said, looking around the decaying theater.

“It’s beautiful,” Ginny said. “I can’t wait to see it when it’s done.”

“She’s a real gem, the Serendipity,” Monty said, “and I’ve seen my share of theaters, I can tell you.”

“Sophie told me you’ve been in America for years, acting and directing,” Ginny prompted.

“So I have,” Monty said. “There hasn’t been much call for wizarding theaters in Britain for many a year. It’s a real shame.” He shook his head sadly. “A real shame.”

“But that’s all going to change now, isn’t it?” Ginny asked cheerily.

Monty smiled. “Damn right it is! We just need to clean this place up a bit and put on a show, and everyone will remember what they’ve been missing. They’ll be clamoring for more! Clamoring!”

“What can I do to help?” Ginny asked.

“Ginny’s amazing with fabric charms, Uncle Monty,” Sophie said.

Ginny smiled, acknowledging to herself that growing up poor had its advantages—she had learned a lot that she wouldn’t have otherwise.

“Ah, good with fabric, are you?” Monty asked, looking at Ginny speculatively. “Then you and Sophie can be in charge of the upholstery, and maybe the costumes when the time comes. Do you know any good costume charms?”

“I know some clothing charms,” Ginny said tentatively. “Are costume charms much different?”

“Not too different! Not too different!” Monty said, clapping his hands together. “They just need to be done all of a piece, you know?”

Ginny didn’t know. She looked at Sophie in confusion. Sophie mouthed, “I’ll show you later,” so Ginny just nodded and smiled at Monty.

“You’ll do a right job, I’m sure,” Monty said.

“I’ll do my best.”

“Of course you will!” Monty enthused. “Now where did I put that lighting plan?” He wandered away, leaving Ginny and Sophie behind.

Ginny sneezed violently. “I think the first thing we should do is get rid of this dust,” she said.

~*~*~*~

Ginny and Sophie worked well together. Even though Sophie was four years younger than Ginny, they had become fast friends two years earlier, when Sophie joined Ginny as one of the Chasers on the Holyhead Harpies Quidditch team. When Sophie had told Ginny about her uncle’s plan to restore the Serendipity Theater and stage a production of Much Ado About Nothing to raise money for a children’s wing at St. Mungo’s, Ginny had readily agreed to help. Now, they were working together wielding Molly Weasley’s favorite dusting charm. It was slow work. They had only made it a short way into the theater when they heard someone trying to open the stubborn lobby door.

“Maybe we should have started by fixing that instead,” Sophie said.

Both women abandoned their work to help open the door, which was much easier to do with Ginny and Sophie pushing from the theater side, and the other person pulling from the lobby. Very soon, the door popped open and the other person stepped into the light.

Ginny gasped. It had been nearly seven years since she had seen him, but she would recognize that hair anywhere. “Malfoy!” she hissed.

As Ginny stared at Draco, he was staring at the theater, much as Ginny had earlier. Upon hearing his name, he turned to look at Ginny. His expression was blank for a moment before recognition flashed across it. “Weasley?” he asked.

“You two know each other?” Sophie asked curiously.

“Unfortunately,” Ginny said, glaring at Draco.

“What Weasley means to say, Bradley,” Draco said in and even voice, “is that our paths crossed more often at Hogwarts than you would expect, considering we were in different years and houses.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Ginny said through clenched teeth. “What are you doing here, Malfoy?”

Draco looked Ginny up and down. She suddenly felt conscious of her dust-covered clothing and messy hair. “I would guess that I’m here for the same reason you are,” Draco said.

Ginny snorted. “You can’t think I’ll believe you’re here to do manual labor to benefit a charity, can you?”

“I really don’t care what you believe or don’t believe, Weasley.”

“Well, I certainly don’t believe that.” Ginny paused. “Unless you have an ulterior motive, I suppose.”

“When you put it that way, maybe I do have an ulterior motive,” Draco said, raising his eyebrows. “Maybe I’ve recently been bitten by the acting bug and have only agreed to help with the restoration in order to assure myself a role in the play.”

“Hm,” Ginny said, wrinkling her nose. “I guess that makes some sense. You always were a bit of a drama queen.”

“I like to believe that I have a flair for entrances and exits, if that’s what you mean,” Draco said lightly.

Ginny wasn’t able to respond, because just then, Monty appeared. “Draco, my boy! I’m so glad you made it!”

“Hello, Mr. Bradley,” Draco said politely. “I’m happy to help.”

Ginny snorted, but neither Draco nor Monty seemed to notice.

“It’s Monty! How many times do I have to tell you?”

“I’m sorry, Monty,” Draco said contritely. “What do you need me to do?”

“What do you say to starting on the woodwork? We need someone to brew the Regrowth Potions, and I’m sure you’d be a right hand with applying the gilt, eh?”

“I’m certainly willing to try, sir,” Draco answered.

“Excellent! Excellent!” Monty boomed, as he steered Draco down the center aisle towards the stage.

“No! It’s not excellent,” Ginny moaned, flinging herself into a nearby seat and sending up a puff of dust.

“What’s wrong with Draco?” Sophie asked.

Ginny looked blankly at Sophie. “He’s awful,” she said.

“Awful how?” Sophie asked.

“I guess you were too young to see the worst of him in school,” Ginny said, sighing, “but you can take my word for it.”

“I don’t know,” Sophie said doubtfully. “I’ve seen him now and then over the past year or two, and he’s always been nice to me.”

Ginny shrugged. “You’re from a wealthy pure-blooded family, so he probably has no reason to be nasty to you.”

“I suppose,” Sophie said, but she didn’t appear to be convinced.

Ginny was about to set her straight, when Sophie shook her head and smiled. “Well, just don’t let him bother you, Gin,” she said. “Uncle Monty has him working on something totally different, so you probably won’t have to see him much at all.”

“You’re probably right,” Ginny said, more cheerfully. “Should we get back to work?”

~*~*~*~

Only a small number of the people Monty had recruited to help restore the Serendipity were able to work during the weekdays, and the crew quickly fell into a pattern. Chester and Grant, two very old, very quiet men, worked on repairing the structural damage. (Ginny wondered why this hadn’t been done before the other repairs, but nobody else seemed to, so she didn’t say anything about it.) Diantha and Crispin, a middle-aged couple who had been at Hogwarts with Monty, were in charge of restoring the woodwork, along with Draco. Michel, a French painter, worked on the ceiling fresco, at least on the days he felt inspired. Ginny and Sophie upholstered the seats. And Monty flitted from project to project, sometimes helping, sometimes getting in the way.

The routine suited Ginny well. She and Sophie had so much fun that it hardly seemed as if they were working at all. The problem came during the breaks. The whole crew would gather in the greenroom backstage, chatting and snacking. Crispin and Michel usually played wizarding chess, Monty would wander around muttering about the upcoming play, and Sophie would sometimes teach Ginny how to cast costuming spells. Much to Ginny’s chagrin, Draco would join them.

“Shouldn’t you two be training?” Draco asked Ginny and Sophie on the second day of work.

“It’s the off-season, Malfoy,” Ginny said, sneering at him. “Or are you so out of touch with reality that you forgot?”

“I know it’s the off-season, Weasley. I just thought you would want the extra practice, considering your record last season.”

“We had a winning record!” Ginny said indignantly.

“Yes, but just barely,” Draco said. Then with a smirk, he added, “And with the Falcons signing Brandon Timms, you’ll have no chance at all if you keep playing the way you have been.”

“Oh, Timms is no problem,” Ginny said, waving the idea off with one hand. “He’s fast, I’ll give you that, but once he gets going he couldn’t change direction for a thousand Galleons. So if you really think he’ll help your precious Falcons, you’re totally deluded.”

“I’d rather have Timms on the Falcons than you any day, Weasley,” Draco said, still smirking.

“Well, that just shows that you have absolutely no sense of finesse,” Ginny said.

“We’ll see, Weasley, we’ll see,” Draco said. He wandered away to check the progress of the chess game.

“Ooh! He makes me so mad!” Ginny said, crumbling the piece of paper she had been doodling costume ideas on. “The nerve of him to insult our playing that way!” She turned to Sophie, who had been suspiciously quiet throughout the whole conversation. “Doesn’t it make you mad?”

Sophie shrugged. “We’re professional Quidditch players. People insult our playing every day, usually with no good reason except that they support a different team. Draco didn’t seem any different to me.”

“Not different! But it was Malfoy! He’s always insulting me, just to get under my skin!”

“Then he seems to have succeeded, hasn’t he?” Sophie asked with a smile.

“You’re right, damn it!” Ginny said, deflating. “Next time, I won’t let him get to me.”

~*~*~*~

“Are you trying to blind us all, Weasley?” Draco asked a couple of days later.

“Is this the setup for one of those tired old insults about my hair?” Ginny countered. “If so, I’ve heard them all already.”

“While your hair certainly is…eye-catching,” Draco said, “I was actually referring to your necklace.”

Ginny glared at Draco as her hand covered her necklace protectively. It was a simple silver chain with a flat, circular pendant about two inches in diameter, with pieces of different colored glass arranged in a starburst pattern. It was a little bright, to be sure, but certainly wouldn’t blind anyone.

“There’s nothing wrong with my necklace, Malfoy,” Ginny snarled.

“Maybe not if you’re color blind,” Draco said.

“The colorfulness only adds to its charm.”

“Only you would find that charming.”

“Well, I think it’s beautiful,” Ginny said stubbornly. “And it has sentimental value as well, which is something I’m sure you wouldn’t understand!” The necklace had her birthday engraved on the back; the year was wrong, of course, but that hardly mattered to Ginny, who was used to owning things secondhand. What really made it special, though, was that it had been a gift from Fred before he died. It was one of her most prized possessions.

“Even sentiment wouldn’t make up for the way it looks,” Draco said. “It’s gaudy.”

“It’s not gaudy!” Ginny insisted, her voice squeaking a little.

Draco just raised his eyebrows significantly.

Ginny barely stopped to think. She had seen that same expression on his face before, every time he had taunted her back at Hogwarts, and all she could think about was that this time, she would wipe it right off his face. Her wand was out of her pocket almost before she had completed her thought. “You think my necklace is gaudy, Malfoy? Try this on for size!” She focused all of her energy on the costuming spell she had just learned.

An instant later, Draco stood blinking before Ginny, dressed in acid green boots, orange tights, red and purple striped plus fours, a ruffled magenta shirt which was partially hidden by a blue tailcoat with large orange polka dots, and a bow tie that changed colors every few seconds. All of this was covered entirely in sequins.

Ginny and Sophie both giggled. Draco stood stunned for a moment, before making a show of examining himself carefully in a nearby mirror.

“Not bad for the spur of the moment, Weasley,” Draco said, tugging lightly on his lapels. “Not bad at all.” Then he cocked his head and added, “But it does seem to be missing something… Aha!”

Suddenly, Draco drew his wand. Ginny flinched, sure he was about to hex her, but instead, he waved it in a circular motion, conjuring a gold sequined top hat. He bowed ostentatiously to Ginny and Sophie, and placed it on his head. “Yes, I think that will do nicely.”

Ginny gaped. Perhaps something about the top hat pulled the outlandish outfit together, or maybe it was just the way Draco carried himself, but somehow he looked every bit the distinguished gentleman—if you ignored the colors and sequins, of course.

Draco turned to Ginny and said, “I have to thank you, Weasley. If I can pull off an outfit like this, Monty is sure to cast me in the play.” And with a small smile, he swept off to find the director.

It took a minute after Draco had left for Ginny to realize that he hadn’t acted at all like she had expected him to. He had actually seemed happy with the way she had dressed him, rather than humiliated. She didn’t understand. What would she have to do to make him leave her alone?

~*~*~*~

“You’re not saying that you actually like Celestina Warbeck, are you?” Ginny asked Sophie incredulously the next day, as they worked on a row of seats near the back of the theater, or the “back of the house”, as Monty and Sophie put it.

“Of course!” Sophie retorted. “What’s not to like? She’s got an amazing voice, and I love the old standards she sings.”

“You love the old standards?” Ginny asked. “But they’re so cheesy.”

“Cheesy but brilliant,” Sophie said with a smile.

“Hmph,” Ginny said. “Give me the Weird Sisters any day.”

“I like the Weird Sisters too,” Sophie said, “but you have to admit they don’t have the same staying power as Celestina.”

“I’ll admit no such thing! Not unless you torture me into it, that is,” Ginny said. “Though making me listen to Celestina for a few hours would probably do the trick!”

“Good morning, girls!” Monty’s voice interrupted their laughter. “Good morning!”

“Good morning, Monty,” Ginny and Sophie said at the same time, then burst into laughter once more.

“You two always seem to be having so much fun,” Monty said wistfully.

“Good company makes the work easier,” Sophie said. “Would you like to join us?”

“Sure, if you’ll remind me how to do it.”

Ginny waved Monty over to the seat she was working on to show him how to upholster the cushion. “Okay,” she said, “here’s some fabric I’ve already cut, so you don’t need to worry about that. Just fold it like so,” —she paused to demonstrate— “and pin it in place.”

“Like that?” Monty asked, fumbling with the pins.

“Yes, just like that,” Ginny answered, even though he had shifted the fabric in the process, so it was bunched oddly on one side. “Now take the thread in one hand and your wand in the other. The incantation is ‘Suere’, and once you say it, you will move both hands along the edge of the fabric where you want the stitches to go.”

Ginny watched as Monty sewed a crooked line. She knew she’d have to redo that cushion later, but Monty’s look of pride when he finished made the extra work worthwhile.

“I did it!” Monty said with glee when he had finished.

“You did,” Ginny said with a smile.

“Sophie was right about you and fabric charms,” Monty said approvingly. “And that costuming spell you used on Draco yesterday was fabulous for a first try!”

“Thank you,” Ginny said with a grin. “I certainly had fun casting it!”

“The style wasn’t quite right for Shakespeare,” Monty said, his forehead creasing slightly in concern. “But we can sort out style later.”

Ginny had to stifle a laugh at the thought of anyone actually wearing that outfit in a play, or anywhere else for that matter. She reassured Monty by saying, “Oh, that wasn’t meant to be for the play, it was just practice.”

“Oh good,” Monty said with a relieved smile. “Good.” He looked around distractedly. “Maybe I’ll go see how the woodwork is coming along.”

As Monty wandered away, Ginny smiled indulgently and began to pick the stitches out of the cushion he had sewn.

~*~*~*~

The day eventually came when Chester and Grant had finished repairing all of the structural damage. To celebrate, Monty insisted on treating the whole weekday crew to tea at one of the fancier tea shops in Diagon Alley. Ginny was happy to have a break. The upholstering was becoming monotonous; she was happy that she could use magic, otherwise it would probably take forever to redo every seat in the theater.

Ginny was less pleased when Draco managed to take the seat across from her in the tea shop. “All this following me around just to annoy me is starting to get old, Malfoy. Is it really necessary?”

“I think it is,” Draco said.

“Why? Can’t you find someone else to bother?”

“Who else is there? It’s either you or Sophie, and she’s too calm and collected. She’s no fun at all, at least not when it comes to tormenting.” He smiled at Sophie, who smiled back.

“So you admit that you’re deliberately tormenting me?”

“One must keep one’s mind active somehow,” Draco said evenly. “Would you like some tea?”

Ginny blinked at the non sequitur, but recovered quickly. “Yes, please.”

Draco poured for her, then for himself.

Ginny reached for the sugar, and spooned some into her cup. Looking up, she noticed that there seemed to be a sugar bowl for each pair of people; only she and Draco would be using this particular bowl. She reached into her pocket, covertly clasped her wand, and silently pronounced, “Dulcisalsus.” Offering the bowl to Draco, she asked sweetly, “Sugar?”

Ginny held her breath as Draco stirred the sugar into his tea and took a sip. She had to stifle a giggle at the way his face twisted at the flavor.

Just then, Ginny saw the waitress approach from the corner of her eye, and momentarily panicked. Now Draco would rant at the poor, innocent witch. Ginny hadn’t thought of that before pulling the prank. She braced herself for the onslaught, but Draco surprised her.

“Excuse me,” Draco said politely. “There seems to have been a mistake. This contains salt instead of sugar. Could we have fresh cups, please?”

“Certainly, sir,” the waitress said. “I’m sorry for the confusion.” She whisked away Draco’s and Ginny’s cups, and a minute later, they had fresh ones.

Draco reached for the sugar bowl in front of Sophie, and put some sugar in his tea. “Would you like some sugar?” he asked Ginny, who, having just taken a plate of tea cakes from Sophie, had her hands full.

“Please,” Ginny answered somewhat distractedly, as she examined the cakes to see if she could find one with apricot filling. She handed the plate to Monty, then took a sip of tea—and spat it out again.

Draco was watching her with an innocent, slightly curious expression on his face. “Are you all right?” he asked evenly. “Is there something wrong with the tea?”

It took all of Ginny’s self-control not to throw her salty tea in Draco’s face.

~*~*~*~

Over the next week, Draco continued to antagonize Ginny, and Ginny continued to respond, pulling her wand more and more frequently. Luckily for Draco, he was usually able to dodge her hexes. She did manage to hit him once, however, with Tarantallegra.

Ginny, Sophie, Monty, Diantha, and Crispin all laughed as Draco danced crazily around the greenroom.

“Are you going to cast the countercurse?” Draco asked Ginny after a while.

“Oh, no,” Ginny answered, pocketing her wand. “Watching you like that is way too much fun!”

After that, Draco seemed to concentrate on controlling his movements as much as possible. Eventually, he managed to work his way very close to where Ginny was standing.

“Dance with me,” Draco said.

“No, thank you,” Ginny answered, stifling a giggle.

“That wasn’t a question,” he answered, surprising her by sweeping her into his arms.

It was all Ginny could do to keep up with the fast pace of Draco’s legs. She nearly tripped many times, and sometimes he was forced to drag her around the floor. It was only Draco’s tight grip on her that kept her from falling.

“Sophie!” Ginny called. “Cast the countercurse!”

“Oh, no!” Draco said, laughing. “Don’t do it, Sophie! Ginny got herself into this, she’ll have to get herself out of it!”

Sophie either agreed with Draco or was enjoying the spectacle or both, because she didn’t raise her wand to help, and started laughing even harder than before.

With a groan of frustration, Ginny wiggled in Draco’s grip, trying to reach the wand in her pocket. It took a few minutes of concentrated effort, but she was finally able to put an end to the dance.

Once he and Ginny were safely on their feet, Draco collapsed into a chair. “Whew!” he said. “That was quite a workout. Even better than Quidditch, don’t you think?”

Ginny just glared at him.

~*~*~*~

“Why do you think Malfoy is always bothering us?” Ginny asked Sophie one day after they had traded insults about each other’s Herbology skills, of all things.

“Don’t you mean why is he always bothering you?” Sophie replied. “I don’t really mind him.”

“That just shows you’re mental,” Ginny said exasperatedly. “But really, why do you think he does it?”

Sophie eyed Ginny for a moment. “I think he’s like a moth to a flame, or like Icarus to the sun. I’m not sure he can help it.”

“Well, he’d better help it if he doesn’t want to get burned!” Ginny said indignantly, making a mental note to try a Stinging Hex next time.

“That’s not what I meant at all,” Sophie said.

“Then what did you mean?”

“I think he fancies you.”

Ginny stared at Sophie for a moment, then burst into laughter. Once she had calmed herself, she said, “That’s the funniest thing you’ve said in months!”

“I was serious,” Sophie said.

“But that’s ridiculous!” Ginny protested. “We’ve never gotten along in our lives!”

Sophie shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. But I think he acts that way on purpose—that he likes the way you react. You’re the only one he treats that way, after all.”

“I’m not the only one,” Ginny said, thinking of Harry, Hermione, and her brothers.

“Just think about it,” Sophie said, standing up to go back to work.

“Sure,” Ginny said in the most sarcastic tone she could muster. “Sure, I’ll think about it.” But she knew she wouldn’t—it was too ludicrous an idea to contemplate.

~*~*~*~

As the restoration work progressed, talk turned more and more to the production of Much Ado About Nothing. Ginny wasn’t interested in a role in the play, so she hadn’t attended the auditions Monty had held over the weekend, but she was as curious as everyone else about the casting. But Draco seemed to be the most curious of all.

“Come on, Monty,” Draco wheedled Monday afternoon. “You’re going to have to tell me eventually, so you might as well just do it now and avoid having me annoy you incessantly about it.”

“Impatient, aren’t you?” Monty asked with a chuckle. “Fine, then. I’ve already told Sophie she’s to be Beatrice.”

“Does that mean I got Benedick?” Draco asked hopefully.

“No,” Monty mumbled. “You’re Don John.”

Much to Ginny’s delight, Draco seemed to deflate. She gleefully asked, “Typecasting, Monty?”

“Typecasting?” Monty asked, confused. “From what I’ve seen, Draco’s more a Benedick type than a villain.” He turned to Draco, and added, “I’m sorry, you know. But you’re just a little too stiff still to pull off Benedick, and the stiffness won’t hurt with Don John—it actually might help him seem more antisocial and villainous.”

“Oh, well, I guess that’s okay then,” Draco said, clearly disappointed. After a moment, he added, “At least you didn’t cast me as Claudio.”

Monty laughed. “I’d cast you as Benedick before Claudio!” he said. “You’ll need a lot more experience before you can pull off the lovesick hero!”

Ginny tried to picture Draco in a role like that and giggled. “Malfoy lovesick? That’d be the day!” she said.

Draco gave Ginny such an intense look that she decided it was time to get back to work.

~*~*~*~

“Ginny!” Ron bellowed as she left the theater that night. He engulfed her in a hug. “It’s been ages! Harry and I are taking you to dinner, and you don’t have any choice in the matter!”

“I don’t, do I?” Ginny asked wryly. “Then it’s a good thing I don’t have any other plans, isn’t it?” She took Ron’s arm and happily followed Harry down the street.

“I think I see you even less now than I did during the Quidditch season,” Ron said to Ginny once they had settled into a booth at the Leaky Cauldron. “You seem to spend all your time cooped up in that old theater.”

“Look who’s talking, Mr. Fancy Auror,” Ginny teased.

“I guess I am pretty busy too,” Ron said with a mixture of sheepishness and pride. “But it’s still strange not to see you during the off-season. Last year, I couldn’t get rid of you.”

Ginny and Ron smiled at each other. “I’d rather be doing anything at all other than knocking around my empty flat with nothing to do but follow you around,” she said. “Plus, working on the theater is for a good cause, and even better, it’s lots of fun!”

“I suppose that makes sense,” Ron said dubiously.

“It makes perfect sense,” Ginny said. “After all, I said it.”

“And you’ve never said anything foolish in your life,” Ron deadpanned.

“Never,” Ginny said, grinning. After a pause, she asked, “You will come to the play once we finish, won’t you?”

“For you, anything, Gin,” Ron said gallantly. “Don’t I go to your games when you know I’d much rather be watching the Cannons?”

“Yes, Ron,” Ginny said, rolling her eyes. “We all know what sacrifices you make!”

“And I can always sleep through the play, after all,” Ron said cheekily.

“You wouldn’t dare!” Ginny said, swatting Ron on the arm.

“Are you going to be in the play, Ginny?” Harry asked, joining the conversation for the first time.

“Oh, no!” Ginny said. “I can’t imagine having all those eyes on me and no broomstick in my hands! But Malfoy’s going to be in it, so it might be worth going just to see that!”

“Malfoy?” Ron asked suspiciously. “How did he get a role?”

“He’s also been helping with the restoration,” Ginny answered. “He’s been damn annoying too.”

“What’s the slimy ferret done, Ginny?” Ron asked, nearly growling.

“Oh, the usual taunts and whatnot,” Ginny said evenly.

“I don’t like that he’s been around you so much.”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle, Ron,” Ginny soothed.

“I don’t think you have to worry, Ron,” Harry said. “He’s not the same as he was at Hogwarts. Not really.”

“You’re just saying that because you saved his life, and if you admitted he’s still evil, it would make you look like a fool,” Ron said ungraciously.

“No, I don’t think so,” Harry said thoughtfully. “You don’t go through what he did during the war and after without taking a good long look at your life. He did that, and came out much better for it. I have a lot of respect for him now.”

“Respect?” Ron asked. “He’s a git!”

“He’s spending his days volunteering for a charity. Would the old Malfoy do that?” Harry posed.

“Ah!” Ginny interjected. “But he has an ulterior motive for that! He told me so! He’s only doing it so he’d be guaranteed a role in the play.”

“Like when his father bought all those broomsticks for the Slytherin team!” Ron said gleefully.

“If you say so,” Harry said, sighing. “Can we talk about something else?” And they did.

~*~*~*~

“Ooh! Who brought tea?” Ginny asked the next day, as she examined the cakes and sandwiches spread out on a table in the greenroom.

“My mum did,” Sophie said, coming up behind Ginny. “She’s worried that Monty is so focused on the theater that he’s not eating enough, so she’s decided to make sure he has no excuse to avoid it.”

“What, does she think he’s losing weight or something?” Ginny asked, dubiously eyeing the corpulent director.

Sophie shrugged. “Half the time, I don’t know what she’s thinking, but I’m not going to complain about this,” she said, reaching for a sandwich.

“Me neither!” Ginny said, examining the pile of cakes.

“Are you looking for one with apricot?” Draco asked, holding up a cake.

“Yes, thank you!” Ginny said, reaching for the cake.

“That’s too bad, then,” Draco said, taking a large bite out of it. “I’m pretty sure that was the last.”

“Slimy ferret!” Ginny said, Ron’s phrase coming suddenly into her mind.

“You know, I’ve never really understood that insult of your brother’s,” Draco said conversationally, taking another bite of the apricot-filled cake.

“It’s… because… you… were… turned… into… a… ferret,” Ginny said very slowly, as if speaking to a slightly dim child. One of Ginny’s greatest regrets was that she had missed the incident, but her friends who had managed to see it had gleefully told her the story over and over again.

Draco rolled his eyes. “I’m not stupid, Weasley. I understand that much. It’s the slimy part I don’t understand. After all, ferrets aren’t slimy.”

“I think it’s supposed to be metaphorical,” Ginny said condescendingly. “Of course, it’s always possible that you actually were slimy as a ferret.” As she said that, she reached for her wand. “But I guess we could always find out, couldn’t we?”

There was a loud BANG! and a pure white ferret lay twitching where Draco had been standing.

Ginny laughed, then used her wand to lift ferret-Draco up, and let him bounce off the floor three or four times. “This is even funnier than I imagined!” she said happily. When the ferret squealed after the next bounce, Ginny laughed even louder.

“Ginny! What are you doing?” Sophie’s startled voice interrupted Ginny’s laughter.

“Isn’t it hilarious?” Ginny asked, letting the ferret rest on the floor. She looked around at the rest of the crew, none of whom were laughing. Indeed, everyone was staring aghast at her. “Come on,” she said. “We were just performing an experiment to see whether Malfoy is a slimy ferret or not.” She turned to Draco, who had returned to his usual form, but still lay prone on the floor. “And you were right, Malfoy. There was no sign of slime.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Ginny saw the others rush to Draco’s side, but she didn’t think too much about it. Instead, she went back to upholstering seats in the balcony, giggling intermittently to herself as she remembered Draco as a bouncing ferret. She didn’t notice that Sophie never returned to help her that day.