One week after her non-date with Malfoy, Ginny found herself distracted as she flew onto the pitch for her weekly match. Instead of focusing on her team's game plan, she found herself constantly glancing into the stands for her brother and his friend, knowing full well that she needed to put aside the distraction and focus. Unfortunately, a part of her was positively terrified of facing the blond again, mostly because she didn't know how she should react to him.
She only caught a glimpse of Ron for a brief moment before the whistle blew and the Quaffle was launched into the air, forcing her to turn her attention to her job, but even then, she still found herself glancing into the stands, irritated that there was no blond seated next to her brother.
The second week, she was most definitely irritated to see Ron was again sitting alone. Malfoy had not attended with her brother the previous week, sparing her any confrontation at dinner afterward, but that did nothing to quell her uneasy feelings about the git. Yes, she'd gone back to thinking of him as “The Git,” because, quite frankly, it was far kinder than some of the other names that came to mind.
The week after that, she found herself nervously excited, and even a bit giddy, to see a flash of blond next to Ron, only to feel a crushing weight of disappointment slam into her chest when she realized that the blonde head belonged to Astoria.
Yet, at dinner each time, she smiled and laughed with Ron, accepted whatever excuse Ron offered for his friend's absence, and made absolutely no mention of anything that might imply that she was feeling any sort of unease involving her brother's friend. However, Ron, in a rare moment of intuitive observation, caught her out.
“What did you say to him, Ginny?” he asked, after Astoria had left.
The look of shock on her face was evident, she knew. “I didn't say anything! We had dinner, Ron, that's all.”
“You've hated him for ages. Granted, you've been getting along since New Year's, but I know you never approved of him being around.”
She groaned. “But, Ron...”
Yet, he ranted on, “For the past month, he's been acting like a spoiled git, all whinging and complaining. Worse than a woman, I tell you. He's been no fun whatsoever and he's been avoiding me. Something happened after that match last month, and I want to know what.”
She had to fight from blushing furiously at the memory. Goodness knew, she'd spent almost every waking hour, and more than a few dream-filled nights, thinking of the kiss that had ended the very pleasant evening that she'd spent with the blond prat.
“Whatever happened was between him and me. I don't see how it could possibly have anything to do with him spending time with you. Could it be that he's just letting you spend more time with Astoria?”
The logic was spot on and she could see some sort of war waged inside her brother's head for several seconds while he tried to unravel the argument. He didn't believe her, but he couldn't deny the possibility either. It was rather fun to see the confusion on his face, opening and closing his mouth much like a goldfish, but no sound came out. After a while, he managed to compose himself, stood up straight and, without admitting defeat, said, “Fine. But, I still think you had something to do with it.”
They parted for the evening under less than amicable terms, but at least he hadn't pressed the matter further.
Then, for the fourth week in a row, Ginny entered the pitch for her weekly match feeling a sense of dread.
She tried to prepare for her match, but, almost without conscious thought, she scanned the stands and was surprised to see Ron sitting in his usual location. Despite their argument, he was still a loyal fan and supporter and she adored him for that. She didn't bother to see if there was a blond seated next to him, because she didn't want to feel that now-familiar stab of disappointment.
Giving a sigh, she felt the annoying disappointment settle in anyway, making her slump on her broom. She found that she no longer looked forward to dinner with Ron after the game.
Turning her attention to the match, she prepared herself for battle.
-
She woke up in St. Mungo's four hours later, surrounded by her teammates, her head and shoulder wrapped thickly in bandages. She couldn't move her right arm. The last thing she remembered was, about an hour into the match, a Bludger had been aimed squarely at her head and, with the Quaffle tucked under her arm, there had been little she could do to defend herself, except to attempt to maneuver out of the way.
Apparently, she hadn't been successful.
Her instinctive reaction was to try to sit up and ask what had happened, but she quickly found that her right arm was useless in helping her move. She winced as a sharp pain radiated down her arm from her heavily bandaged shoulder. The Healer who had been attending hurried to her side to help, making disapproving noises all the while.
“How bad is it?” she asked the Healer, ignoring the concerned looks from her teammates.
“Well, the good news is that the injury to your head wasn't too serious, so you should have no memory loss,” the woman stated in a rather crisp, emotionless tone. “The bad news is that your shoulder needed some major reconstruction, and I had to use specialized spells to hold it together while it heals. I'm afraid you'll be out for the rest of the season and you'll have to do a lot of therapy to regain full motion in your arm.”
“Damn!” she muttered, trying to recall the sequence of events that had left her open and vulnerable. Turning to her teammates, hoping that the injury had at least been worthwhile, she asked, “Did you at least win the match?”
Her team captain smiled. “Always a competitor, aren't you. That's why I like you, Ginny, but, no, we lost.”
Ginny cringed at the news. “Again?” It hadn't been one of their best seasons, and now, with Ginny out, it was only going to get worse.
“Don't worry about it, Gin. Just get well. We'll need you back in top form next season.”
The others nodded in agreement, wishing her a speedy recovery as they left the room, and Ginny dropped back onto the pillows, feeling miserable.
It had largely been her own fault that she'd been injured, although she was reluctant to admit the truth to herself. She'd been distracted. Worse, she'd been distracted for the past four weeks, ever since... well, she didn't want to think about the night she literally ran away from Malfoy. And she didn't want to think about the fact that Ron knew that his best friend's distant behavior was somehow her fault.
Unfortunately, that's all she had been thinking about. It seemed that thoughts of the arrogant prat just kept popping into her head at the most inconvenient times. What made matters worse was that she hadn't seen him since that night – the night of the non-date. He hadn't even joined Ron in the stands during the past four matches. A part of her had expected that he'd at least attempt to talk to her, but there had been nothing. And it irked her to no end.
A soft knock fortunately interrupted her unwelcome thoughts and she looked up to see Ron's bright red hair as the door opened. He walked in, unceremoniously holding a bunch of peach roses. She smiled. “Hey, big brother.”
“Hey, Ginny,” he replied, with a little forced cheerfulness. It was apparent that the sight of her being bruised and bandaged made him uncomfortable. “Have you talked with your Healer yet?”
“Yes, and it's not good,” she said with a frown. “Looks like you are stuck with me now, at least for the rest of the season.”
He frowned. “It wasn't your fault, Gin,” Ron said. “You were fouled right before the hit. Everyone knows that Puddlemere plays dirty. Malfoy thought he deliberately shoved you into the path of that Bludger – he was ready to pummel that slimy...”
“Malfoy was there?” she asked, just a bit too quickly, interrupting her brother's rant.
Ron sighed. “Yeah, I had to practically drag him there. Got tired of him making excuses about why he couldn't go.”
“Oh,” she said, feeling disappointed that he hadn't decided to come on his own. Not that she hadn't expected the blond to avoid her, but she did find herself to be overwhelmingly disappointed.
“He told me that he upset you, Gin. He told me why.”
She felt the blush rising to her cheeks. “He said...?”
“He said that you two were getting along all right and that he...ahem...”
“He kissed me, Ron. You can say it.”
It was her brother's turn to blush, and it was quite obvious that the subject matter made him extremely uncomfortable. “You don't have to be so forthcoming about it,” he muttered. “There are some things a brother doesn't want to know.”
She dropped her head onto the pillow, rolling her eyes. Her brother truly was hopeless when it came to social situations, but that was one of his endearing traits. “It's not a big deal, Ron. It's ok.”
“I mean, I wanted the two of you to get along...” he said, stammering and appearing to be very uncomfortable. “I wasn't expecting to hear that!”
His awkward expression lightened her glum mood. “I can't believe he told you.”
“Well, there's not much to talk about while sitting in the waiting room, and I was getting sick of him acting like a total wanker. We finally had a bit of a row about it and he confessed that it wasn't your fault that he was avoiding us both.”
“He's here?”
“He's been in the waiting room with me since they brought you in. Bullied the Healers until they made sure to send in the best specialist they had to work on your arm, by the way.”
She chuckled.
“Seriously, Gin, when he's in a mood, there's no living with him. It was nice to see him turn all that whining and complaining on the Healers instead of me.”
“I suppose I should thank him for getting the specialist.”
“And the flowers,” Ron added, motioning to the roses. “He said that he's taken it upon himself to teach me proper manners, and only a total tosser of a brother would forget them.”
“You let him talk to you like that?”
“It's no worse than what Hermione used to say to me, except when Malfoy calls me a tosser, he usually acts all pompous and sort of looks like he just ate a lemon. Actually, now that I think of it, Hermione does that too. Just when Malfoy does it, he's trying to be funny.”
“Well, tell the tosser to come in. I can't even move my right arm, much less lift a wand against him.”
“All right, but no fighting.”
She grinned and gave him a sloppy salute with her left hand to indicate that she agreed to the order.
When Malfoy entered, she caught only a brief hesitation as he stepped into the room. It was as if he was frightened of her.
“I don't bite, you know.”
“Disappointing, then. I had higher hopes for you,” he said in response.
She chuckled, glad that he was willing to lighten the mood. It made it much easier for her to attempt an apology, although she had no idea how to begin. It was so much easier when she could just insult him.
“I'm glad you were at the game today,” she said lamely.
He shrugged. “Couldn't keep backing out forever. With Ron seeing Astoria now, it's about the only time I get to do something with him outside of work.”
She smiled, happy for her brother. “Well, at least she keeps him out of trouble. After all, he's run out of the hangover potion that I left for him, so it's best if he doesn't go out drinking as much.”
“He only drank to work up enough nerve to talk to girls anyway. Now, he's the one ribbing me to do the same.”
She felt disappointed, but couldn't begrudge him going out and trying to find someone new. “How is that working out for you?” she asked, curious to know if his quest had been successful.
“Not so well. As you know, the last attempt didn't work out so well, and it's hard to find someone who hates me enough to make things interesting.”
She nodded, frowning slightly. “Ron said that you told him what happened when we...”
“I wanted him to know that it wasn't your fault that things between us became a little awkward.”
Awkward, indeed. She didn't exactly regret running out, but she did regret that she'd avoided him since the incident.
“It's my fault, Malf- Draco,” she said. “I was confused. I needed time to sort things out.”
He nodded, looking disappointed.
“Well...” he said, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. “I do hope that we can be friends, or at least be civil for Ron's sake,” he said.
She looked at him, noticing that he avoided her gaze. “No. No, I don't think so.”
He looked up sharply, his expression alarmed. “But...”
“I wouldn't do that for Ron's sake, and goodness knows that it's much easier to argue with you,” she said with an exaggerated sigh.
He opened his mouth, ready to protest, but she gave an innocent smile and continued before he could emit any sound. “But, if you'd prefer, I'd certainly try to be civil to a man I'm dating.”
It was amusing to watch is shocked expression turn into a rather too-pleased grin. She would have been annoyed, but she realized that her grin was just as smug. After all, she'd totally put him off-guard, for at least a few seconds, and that almost made up for the incident when she fell off the ladder – almost.
He stepped closer, still tentative, until she patted the spot on her bed, indicating for him to sit. Once he was settled, she said, “You've gotten under my skin, Mr Malfoy. Perhaps you've brainwashed me or Confunded me, just like you have the rest of my family.”
He appeared concerned. “Hopefully not exactly like the rest of your family. I do like them and all, but I don't think about them quite the same way.”
“Good,” she said, and with her good arm, she pulled him closer. “Because I don't quite want them to be thinking of kissing you, the way I've been thinking about it for the past few weeks.”
He smiled, leaned in, his face just a whisper away from hers. “Well, since you put it that way, Miss Weasley...” He paused, only increasing her anticipation, causing her to tilt her chin up toward him. “And, when you get out of here, we'll have to give it another go,” he said with a devilish smirk. He pulled away, much to her very obvious dismay, leaving her feeling just a bit furious with him, if the whole thing hadn't been so devilishly charming.
She huffed and pouted, but he only grinned in response, giving her a mock bow before he left the room. Slumping back onto her pillows, she decided that he was going to make her life quite interesting, if she managed not to strangle him.
x
“Ready?” he asked, his voice low, almost taunting.
She shuddered nervously, feeling like a young schoolgirl again. “I'm not sure. You don't think it's too soon? It's only been three months.”
He grinned, that slightly evil tilt to his lips that made her question his motives. “It's never too soon, love.”
“Prat,” she responded, with affection. “I'm just worried about the shoulder.”
“You've been doing your exercises and the Healer did say that you could go back to normal activity,” he replied persuasively, his eyebrows raising suggestively.
She tried to come up with another excuse, but failed miserably. She'd been putting him off for the past few weeks, despite the Healer saying that she needn't worry. “Yes, I know. It's just...” she paused, searching for the right words. “I'm just wondering how my brothers feel about it. You know how over-protective they can be.”
“All taken care of,” he said, offering his hand to her in invitation, waiting for her to accept his offer.
Tentatively she took his hand, allowing him to pull her to her feet. He gave her an encouraging smile. “Just don't be too rough,” she warned.
“I wouldn't dream of it,” he said, his impish grin returning. “I've seen your hexes, remember?”
“I said I was sorry about that,” she said, blushing in embarrassment. “I really was aiming for Fred.”
“Well, it was partly my fault,” he admitted. “Everyone else knew to duck out of the way.”
“It's called experience.”
He nodded, tugging her hand to hurry her along, since her conversation seemed to be slowing their progress toward the door. “Indeed, and that is our objective today – to get you some experience.”
She gave a dramatic sigh in response. “Yes, Mr Malfoy. And I suppose you are just the right person for the job?”
“You know I am,” he replied smugly, tugging her hand and pulling her close. He gave another devilish, superior grin as his arms wrapped around her waist. She felt the familiar warmth spread through her gut, which seemed to happen every time he held her since they'd begun dating three months ago.
He was smug, therefore part of her wanted to hex him, yet she could never resist him. This time was no exception. He leaned in, his lips ghosting over hers in a teasing manner, making her impatient, making her want him all the more. Finally, when she could take his teasing no longer and she found herself wanting to hex the prat, he pressed his lips against hers firmly, even possessively. It drove her positively mad with want each and every time. Yet, she loved him for it.
She loved him.
The epiphany struck her like a Bludger to the head and she tried to hide the drastic intake of breath that came with the realization. He didn't seem to notice, since he had moved his lips from hers to nuzzle her behind her ear at that particular moment.
“We should be going, love,” he whispered huskily into her ear, “before I continue with a completely different nefarious plan.” Then, before she could respond, he released her, grabbed her hand again and tugged her outside into the crisp, clear October sunshine.
Having finally succeeded in hauling her reluctant arse outside, his lips twisted into his favorite smug, yet mischievous grin and, at that moment, she knew that the evil streak within him would never be entirely redeemed. She could only hope to contain it a bit. She smacked him solidly on the arm. “Prat.”
A voice rang out from above them. “Hey, no public display of affection!”
She looked up to see Ron, flanked by Bill, George, Fred and Angelina, floating above, and could hardly contain her surprise, a smile lighting her face. “Are you all going to fly with me?” she called out to the group.
“Just a few drills, maybe some three on three if you're up to it,” Ron replied.
Knowing that she wasn't entirely alone in her efforts made her look forward to the workout that she'd been avoiding, that was, until her blond companion handed her a broom. She studied the item sceptically. “This isn't mine,” she said sourly. “It's almost like a children's broom.”
“It is,” he replied. “It's lighter, not sturdy enough for a real match, but it will be much easier to control, and less stress on your arm.”
She looked up, questioningly.
“No, it's not another gift from me,” he said, sounding defensive. “Ron talked with your Healer and asked. He and your brothers chipped in. Bill figures that his daughter will get to use it when she's a little older, so don't break it.”
“Oh, fine,” she said, with a heavy, dramatic sigh. “Well, we couldn't have asked for a nicer day.”
“Nope,” he agreed. “We won't get many more of these before winter sets in, so we should make the best of it.”
It was Ron that finally shouted back to hurry them along. “Well, are you two going to jabber all day, or are you going to get up here and fly with us?”
Grinning, she grabbed her light broom and mounted it as if she'd never been injured. “You bet!”
xoxoxo
An hour later, she was flying as if she'd never been injured, but she could tell she was tiring. The feeling of being in the air again had been exhilarating and, although there was still some soreness in her injured arm, she was feeling more like her old self. She was eager to get back in proper Quidditch form and this first foray after her injury gave her hope that she'd fully recover. But she also knew that she needed to work her bum off over the winter, or risk losing her spot on the Harpies when spring training began.
Her thoughts were pulled back to their scrimmage when George threw a bad pass, and her competitive instincts kicked in, making her reach farther than her shoulder allowed. She cringed in pain, and Fred made some rude remark to George about the quality of his aim.
“I'm a Beater, not a Chaser!” George shouted in return. Then, with a wicked grin at Ginny, he said, “Besides, I wouldn't dream of hurting her, otherwise we'll likely end up stuck with her working at the shop, and she'll scare off all the customers!”
Without answering, she flipped the tail end of her broom into George's, causing him to spin violently, knocking him off and landing him right in the middle of their mother's batch of Goblin Gourds. The colorful, small, pumpkin-like fruits immediately began beating on the interloper, causing George to yelp in mock pain. “Foul!” he shouted.
“You can't call 'foul' on your own teammate!” Fred shouted back.
The others stopped playing and flew over the spectacle, laughing. Ginny looked up to share a warm grin at her boyfriend, who was grinning back and nodding in approval. It had been a wonderful day.
She looked back at her brother, still attempting to free himself from the onslaught of gourds that were determined to do him bodily harm. “Maybe you should try out for Beater instead of Chaser next year,” George grumbled to her, as he crawled from the vegetation, laughing and brushing himself off.
“Only if I get to practice on you, dear brother,” she replied smartly.
“You better watch out, George,” Fred said. “Mum will hex you if you ruined her garden too badly. Those are meant for the All-Hallows celebration.”
“It's probably time I quit,” Ginny declared. “My arm is getting tired, and I don't want to re-injure anything.”
The group dismounted and Draco put an arm around her waist as they began walking back toward the house, George fighting off an errant gourd that seemed to be still upset at him.
“Yo, Malfoy,” Ron said. “Just because I'm all right with you dating my sister, doesn't mean I want to see any of it. From my point of view, she's supposed to remain single for the rest of her life.”
George freed himself from the last offending gourd, flinging the item at Ron's backside, making him yelp in surprise, in a rather feminine way.
Ginny chuckled, leaning closer into her boyfriend as they walked along, feeling the comfort of Draco's arm around her waist, and his warmth. She didn't have to look up at him to know that he was laughing at Ron's childishness as well, though, she also noticed that he wasn't doing anything to provoke her brother.
“Don't mind him, Ginny. If you need to stay over at Malfoy's again. I'll cover for you,” George said.
She blushed, feeling rather odd to have her older brothers make any insinuations about her love life – it was just, strange.
“She only fell asleep on the couch,” Draco said, coming to her defense and she leaned into him gratefully.
“There!" Ron said, pointing emphatically at Draco. “I'm perfectly fine with it. It's just tough to lie to Mum.”
The banter was perfect, just as it should be, and Ginny was enjoying every moment of it, even if some things were a bit embarrassing. “Don't worry, Ron,” Ginny said, in her best mock-soothing tone. “I'd cover for you if you ever stay out too long with Astoria.”
Fred helpfully added, “You would Ginny, but we all know that Ron hasn't even gotten past holding hands with her.”
Ron blushed furiously, basically confirming Fred's accusation, and began to sputter something along the lines that it was none of their business. “That's not true, and you know it. I just prefer to take things slow.”
“That's not what I hear from Astoria,” Ginny added, her face lighting in an evil grin.
Ron sputtered, at a total loss for words. “But, but... Draco, help me out, mate. You know I'm being a gentleman!”
“Asking me for help?” Draco appeared thoughtful for several seconds, even tapping his chin in a semi-serious manner to give proper dramatic effect. “Ummmm... No.”
Ron now was blushing furiously, and appearing completely embarrassed as the group laughed. “You know, Malfoy, as my best mate, you are supposed to back me up.”
“Not this time. When it comes to choosing between you and Ginny in a disagreement, I'll toss you under the Knight Bus every time. You know how she hexes.”
Ginny was grateful that her close proximity allowed her to give Draco a sharp elbow in the ribs.
“Ow!” he squeaked, causing Ron to point and laugh.
“She punches pretty well, too,” Ron stated.
While George continued to taunt Ron about his “gentlemanly conduct” and Ron continued to attempt to say something in defense, Draco leaned in, whispering devilishly in her ear. “You know, you wouldn't have to hide our nefarious activities from your mother if you moved out.”
She looked up sharply, seeing the mischief in his eyes, and a touch of hope. Was he asking her to move in with him? Her breath quickened, glad that their interaction went unnoticed because everyone was still focused on tormenting Ron.
They walked into the house, everyone in a jovial mood and Ron was saved from further humiliation when they realized that a visitor, dressed in bright red Auror robes, was seated in the kitchen with Molly, consuming biscuits and hot chocolate.
“Look who popped in for a visit!” Molly said, gesturing excitedly at the visitor, a huge grin on her face.
The Auror rose from his seat and turned around, and Ginny immediately recognized him, although he looked noticeably older than when she'd last seen him. “Harry!” she and Ron exclaimed simultaneously.
“Finally graduated, eh mate?” Ron asked cheerfully, happy to see his friend.
Harry's gaze fixated on Ron for just a moment and Ginny could see a matching delighted grin on Harry's face but, then, he looked up at the rest of the group. His grin immediately dropped when his gaze settled on the blond standing next to Ginny, partially hidden just behind Fred's shoulder. Suspicion and anger appeared on his face and he drew his wand with the speed of a trained Auror. “Malfoy!”
Ginny looked over at her boyfriend, whose previously happy expression had been replaced with a look of shock, although no matching anger was on his face. She jumped in between Harry and the blond, taking a protective stance. “Put that down, Harry!”
The look of shock on Harry's face was somewhat comic.
“Whoa, Harry, just a bit jumpy are you?” George asked.
“Auror training, George,” Fred responded. “Gives them all cat-like reflexes.”
“Nah, looks more like an allergic reaction to me, Fred.”
The twins remarks completely deflated the tense moment and Harry's wand slowly dropped to his side, although it remained in his hand. Ginny heard Draco chuckle nervously behind her, and she snorted a very inelegant laugh, allowing her to release the tension of the moment. As Draco's arm wrapped around her, pulling her close, she saw Harry's eyes open wide in shock.
Ron started laughing as he motioned in Harry's direction. “That's almost the same look you had, Ginny, when you first saw me walk in with Malfoy. Remember?”
She blushed, embarrassed by the memory, and reminded of how much her perspective on the universe had changed in the past year. Looking over at Harry, she could see how ridiculous she must have appeared. His expression showed shock, confusion, and more than a touch of disbelief. His mouth was opening and closing like a fish, and his hands were twitching a bit, as if he had no clue what to do, but it was clear he felt like he needed to do something – preferably something involving a wicked hex. If she'd looked anything like that, it was no wonder they had all laughed at her then. The current situation suddenly reminded her of Draco's words that laughter was the better choice and, now, she truly agreed.
Looking between Draco and Harry, it seemed that neither was willing to laugh about anything in the near future, because Harry was glaring daggers at Draco, and Draco was showing no emotion whatsoever, which Ginny took as being a bad sign.
It suddenly struck her that one of the constants in the universe was that Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy had never gotten along. Harry had hated Draco, and Draco's favorite sport in school, outside of Quidditch of course, was needling Harry Potter to distraction.
Granted, Draco had been a royal pain-in-the-arse to Ron also. But Draco's antagonism toward Ron had been driven by social prejudice and Ron's association with Harry. The rules had changed when Draco had simply outgrown his childhood issues with the Weasleys, because they'd never had any personal basis. If anything, Ron and Draco had much in common, having both grown up in the magical world, giving them a basis for building a relationship.
A year ago, Ginny had returned home with an ingrained dislike for Malfoy. He was still the same person, as could be noted by his enjoyment of provoking and needling her to distraction. Granted, his motives were no longer malicious, so both she and Ron learned to enjoy Malfoy's devilish streak as an endearing trait instead of a vice.
Ginny suddenly realized how the rules of the universe hadn't changed quite as radically as she'd originally thought. Her view of them had.
Ginny looked over at the twins and saw that they were sporting wicked grins as they studied the silent exchange between Draco and Harry, neither of whom was pleased to be in each other's company. She felt a similar knowing grin come to her face as she met Ron's confused expression. She stepped up to her boyfriend and gave him a reassuring kiss on the cheek, before turning back to the twins with a nod, effectively giving them permission to do whatever they wished.
Draco seemed confused by her action, but broke away from his staring contest with Harry to give her a small, grateful smile. Harry, on the other hand, was standing by the table, his jaw nearly falling to the floor in shock.
Ginny grinned. It was going to be fun to watch and see if the universe would allow yet another impossible constant to be changed, or at least twisted a little.
She only caught a glimpse of Ron for a brief moment before the whistle blew and the Quaffle was launched into the air, forcing her to turn her attention to her job, but even then, she still found herself glancing into the stands, irritated that there was no blond seated next to her brother.
The second week, she was most definitely irritated to see Ron was again sitting alone. Malfoy had not attended with her brother the previous week, sparing her any confrontation at dinner afterward, but that did nothing to quell her uneasy feelings about the git. Yes, she'd gone back to thinking of him as “The Git,” because, quite frankly, it was far kinder than some of the other names that came to mind.
The week after that, she found herself nervously excited, and even a bit giddy, to see a flash of blond next to Ron, only to feel a crushing weight of disappointment slam into her chest when she realized that the blonde head belonged to Astoria.
Yet, at dinner each time, she smiled and laughed with Ron, accepted whatever excuse Ron offered for his friend's absence, and made absolutely no mention of anything that might imply that she was feeling any sort of unease involving her brother's friend. However, Ron, in a rare moment of intuitive observation, caught her out.
“What did you say to him, Ginny?” he asked, after Astoria had left.
The look of shock on her face was evident, she knew. “I didn't say anything! We had dinner, Ron, that's all.”
“You've hated him for ages. Granted, you've been getting along since New Year's, but I know you never approved of him being around.”
She groaned. “But, Ron...”
Yet, he ranted on, “For the past month, he's been acting like a spoiled git, all whinging and complaining. Worse than a woman, I tell you. He's been no fun whatsoever and he's been avoiding me. Something happened after that match last month, and I want to know what.”
She had to fight from blushing furiously at the memory. Goodness knew, she'd spent almost every waking hour, and more than a few dream-filled nights, thinking of the kiss that had ended the very pleasant evening that she'd spent with the blond prat.
“Whatever happened was between him and me. I don't see how it could possibly have anything to do with him spending time with you. Could it be that he's just letting you spend more time with Astoria?”
The logic was spot on and she could see some sort of war waged inside her brother's head for several seconds while he tried to unravel the argument. He didn't believe her, but he couldn't deny the possibility either. It was rather fun to see the confusion on his face, opening and closing his mouth much like a goldfish, but no sound came out. After a while, he managed to compose himself, stood up straight and, without admitting defeat, said, “Fine. But, I still think you had something to do with it.”
They parted for the evening under less than amicable terms, but at least he hadn't pressed the matter further.
Then, for the fourth week in a row, Ginny entered the pitch for her weekly match feeling a sense of dread.
She tried to prepare for her match, but, almost without conscious thought, she scanned the stands and was surprised to see Ron sitting in his usual location. Despite their argument, he was still a loyal fan and supporter and she adored him for that. She didn't bother to see if there was a blond seated next to him, because she didn't want to feel that now-familiar stab of disappointment.
Giving a sigh, she felt the annoying disappointment settle in anyway, making her slump on her broom. She found that she no longer looked forward to dinner with Ron after the game.
Turning her attention to the match, she prepared herself for battle.
-
She woke up in St. Mungo's four hours later, surrounded by her teammates, her head and shoulder wrapped thickly in bandages. She couldn't move her right arm. The last thing she remembered was, about an hour into the match, a Bludger had been aimed squarely at her head and, with the Quaffle tucked under her arm, there had been little she could do to defend herself, except to attempt to maneuver out of the way.
Apparently, she hadn't been successful.
Her instinctive reaction was to try to sit up and ask what had happened, but she quickly found that her right arm was useless in helping her move. She winced as a sharp pain radiated down her arm from her heavily bandaged shoulder. The Healer who had been attending hurried to her side to help, making disapproving noises all the while.
“How bad is it?” she asked the Healer, ignoring the concerned looks from her teammates.
“Well, the good news is that the injury to your head wasn't too serious, so you should have no memory loss,” the woman stated in a rather crisp, emotionless tone. “The bad news is that your shoulder needed some major reconstruction, and I had to use specialized spells to hold it together while it heals. I'm afraid you'll be out for the rest of the season and you'll have to do a lot of therapy to regain full motion in your arm.”
“Damn!” she muttered, trying to recall the sequence of events that had left her open and vulnerable. Turning to her teammates, hoping that the injury had at least been worthwhile, she asked, “Did you at least win the match?”
Her team captain smiled. “Always a competitor, aren't you. That's why I like you, Ginny, but, no, we lost.”
Ginny cringed at the news. “Again?” It hadn't been one of their best seasons, and now, with Ginny out, it was only going to get worse.
“Don't worry about it, Gin. Just get well. We'll need you back in top form next season.”
The others nodded in agreement, wishing her a speedy recovery as they left the room, and Ginny dropped back onto the pillows, feeling miserable.
It had largely been her own fault that she'd been injured, although she was reluctant to admit the truth to herself. She'd been distracted. Worse, she'd been distracted for the past four weeks, ever since... well, she didn't want to think about the night she literally ran away from Malfoy. And she didn't want to think about the fact that Ron knew that his best friend's distant behavior was somehow her fault.
Unfortunately, that's all she had been thinking about. It seemed that thoughts of the arrogant prat just kept popping into her head at the most inconvenient times. What made matters worse was that she hadn't seen him since that night – the night of the non-date. He hadn't even joined Ron in the stands during the past four matches. A part of her had expected that he'd at least attempt to talk to her, but there had been nothing. And it irked her to no end.
A soft knock fortunately interrupted her unwelcome thoughts and she looked up to see Ron's bright red hair as the door opened. He walked in, unceremoniously holding a bunch of peach roses. She smiled. “Hey, big brother.”
“Hey, Ginny,” he replied, with a little forced cheerfulness. It was apparent that the sight of her being bruised and bandaged made him uncomfortable. “Have you talked with your Healer yet?”
“Yes, and it's not good,” she said with a frown. “Looks like you are stuck with me now, at least for the rest of the season.”
He frowned. “It wasn't your fault, Gin,” Ron said. “You were fouled right before the hit. Everyone knows that Puddlemere plays dirty. Malfoy thought he deliberately shoved you into the path of that Bludger – he was ready to pummel that slimy...”
“Malfoy was there?” she asked, just a bit too quickly, interrupting her brother's rant.
Ron sighed. “Yeah, I had to practically drag him there. Got tired of him making excuses about why he couldn't go.”
“Oh,” she said, feeling disappointed that he hadn't decided to come on his own. Not that she hadn't expected the blond to avoid her, but she did find herself to be overwhelmingly disappointed.
“He told me that he upset you, Gin. He told me why.”
She felt the blush rising to her cheeks. “He said...?”
“He said that you two were getting along all right and that he...ahem...”
“He kissed me, Ron. You can say it.”
It was her brother's turn to blush, and it was quite obvious that the subject matter made him extremely uncomfortable. “You don't have to be so forthcoming about it,” he muttered. “There are some things a brother doesn't want to know.”
She dropped her head onto the pillow, rolling her eyes. Her brother truly was hopeless when it came to social situations, but that was one of his endearing traits. “It's not a big deal, Ron. It's ok.”
“I mean, I wanted the two of you to get along...” he said, stammering and appearing to be very uncomfortable. “I wasn't expecting to hear that!”
His awkward expression lightened her glum mood. “I can't believe he told you.”
“Well, there's not much to talk about while sitting in the waiting room, and I was getting sick of him acting like a total wanker. We finally had a bit of a row about it and he confessed that it wasn't your fault that he was avoiding us both.”
“He's here?”
“He's been in the waiting room with me since they brought you in. Bullied the Healers until they made sure to send in the best specialist they had to work on your arm, by the way.”
She chuckled.
“Seriously, Gin, when he's in a mood, there's no living with him. It was nice to see him turn all that whining and complaining on the Healers instead of me.”
“I suppose I should thank him for getting the specialist.”
“And the flowers,” Ron added, motioning to the roses. “He said that he's taken it upon himself to teach me proper manners, and only a total tosser of a brother would forget them.”
“You let him talk to you like that?”
“It's no worse than what Hermione used to say to me, except when Malfoy calls me a tosser, he usually acts all pompous and sort of looks like he just ate a lemon. Actually, now that I think of it, Hermione does that too. Just when Malfoy does it, he's trying to be funny.”
“Well, tell the tosser to come in. I can't even move my right arm, much less lift a wand against him.”
“All right, but no fighting.”
She grinned and gave him a sloppy salute with her left hand to indicate that she agreed to the order.
When Malfoy entered, she caught only a brief hesitation as he stepped into the room. It was as if he was frightened of her.
“I don't bite, you know.”
“Disappointing, then. I had higher hopes for you,” he said in response.
She chuckled, glad that he was willing to lighten the mood. It made it much easier for her to attempt an apology, although she had no idea how to begin. It was so much easier when she could just insult him.
“I'm glad you were at the game today,” she said lamely.
He shrugged. “Couldn't keep backing out forever. With Ron seeing Astoria now, it's about the only time I get to do something with him outside of work.”
She smiled, happy for her brother. “Well, at least she keeps him out of trouble. After all, he's run out of the hangover potion that I left for him, so it's best if he doesn't go out drinking as much.”
“He only drank to work up enough nerve to talk to girls anyway. Now, he's the one ribbing me to do the same.”
She felt disappointed, but couldn't begrudge him going out and trying to find someone new. “How is that working out for you?” she asked, curious to know if his quest had been successful.
“Not so well. As you know, the last attempt didn't work out so well, and it's hard to find someone who hates me enough to make things interesting.”
She nodded, frowning slightly. “Ron said that you told him what happened when we...”
“I wanted him to know that it wasn't your fault that things between us became a little awkward.”
Awkward, indeed. She didn't exactly regret running out, but she did regret that she'd avoided him since the incident.
“It's my fault, Malf- Draco,” she said. “I was confused. I needed time to sort things out.”
He nodded, looking disappointed.
“Well...” he said, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. “I do hope that we can be friends, or at least be civil for Ron's sake,” he said.
She looked at him, noticing that he avoided her gaze. “No. No, I don't think so.”
He looked up sharply, his expression alarmed. “But...”
“I wouldn't do that for Ron's sake, and goodness knows that it's much easier to argue with you,” she said with an exaggerated sigh.
He opened his mouth, ready to protest, but she gave an innocent smile and continued before he could emit any sound. “But, if you'd prefer, I'd certainly try to be civil to a man I'm dating.”
It was amusing to watch is shocked expression turn into a rather too-pleased grin. She would have been annoyed, but she realized that her grin was just as smug. After all, she'd totally put him off-guard, for at least a few seconds, and that almost made up for the incident when she fell off the ladder – almost.
He stepped closer, still tentative, until she patted the spot on her bed, indicating for him to sit. Once he was settled, she said, “You've gotten under my skin, Mr Malfoy. Perhaps you've brainwashed me or Confunded me, just like you have the rest of my family.”
He appeared concerned. “Hopefully not exactly like the rest of your family. I do like them and all, but I don't think about them quite the same way.”
“Good,” she said, and with her good arm, she pulled him closer. “Because I don't quite want them to be thinking of kissing you, the way I've been thinking about it for the past few weeks.”
He smiled, leaned in, his face just a whisper away from hers. “Well, since you put it that way, Miss Weasley...” He paused, only increasing her anticipation, causing her to tilt her chin up toward him. “And, when you get out of here, we'll have to give it another go,” he said with a devilish smirk. He pulled away, much to her very obvious dismay, leaving her feeling just a bit furious with him, if the whole thing hadn't been so devilishly charming.
She huffed and pouted, but he only grinned in response, giving her a mock bow before he left the room. Slumping back onto her pillows, she decided that he was going to make her life quite interesting, if she managed not to strangle him.
x
“Ready?” he asked, his voice low, almost taunting.
She shuddered nervously, feeling like a young schoolgirl again. “I'm not sure. You don't think it's too soon? It's only been three months.”
He grinned, that slightly evil tilt to his lips that made her question his motives. “It's never too soon, love.”
“Prat,” she responded, with affection. “I'm just worried about the shoulder.”
“You've been doing your exercises and the Healer did say that you could go back to normal activity,” he replied persuasively, his eyebrows raising suggestively.
She tried to come up with another excuse, but failed miserably. She'd been putting him off for the past few weeks, despite the Healer saying that she needn't worry. “Yes, I know. It's just...” she paused, searching for the right words. “I'm just wondering how my brothers feel about it. You know how over-protective they can be.”
“All taken care of,” he said, offering his hand to her in invitation, waiting for her to accept his offer.
Tentatively she took his hand, allowing him to pull her to her feet. He gave her an encouraging smile. “Just don't be too rough,” she warned.
“I wouldn't dream of it,” he said, his impish grin returning. “I've seen your hexes, remember?”
“I said I was sorry about that,” she said, blushing in embarrassment. “I really was aiming for Fred.”
“Well, it was partly my fault,” he admitted. “Everyone else knew to duck out of the way.”
“It's called experience.”
He nodded, tugging her hand to hurry her along, since her conversation seemed to be slowing their progress toward the door. “Indeed, and that is our objective today – to get you some experience.”
She gave a dramatic sigh in response. “Yes, Mr Malfoy. And I suppose you are just the right person for the job?”
“You know I am,” he replied smugly, tugging her hand and pulling her close. He gave another devilish, superior grin as his arms wrapped around her waist. She felt the familiar warmth spread through her gut, which seemed to happen every time he held her since they'd begun dating three months ago.
He was smug, therefore part of her wanted to hex him, yet she could never resist him. This time was no exception. He leaned in, his lips ghosting over hers in a teasing manner, making her impatient, making her want him all the more. Finally, when she could take his teasing no longer and she found herself wanting to hex the prat, he pressed his lips against hers firmly, even possessively. It drove her positively mad with want each and every time. Yet, she loved him for it.
She loved him.
The epiphany struck her like a Bludger to the head and she tried to hide the drastic intake of breath that came with the realization. He didn't seem to notice, since he had moved his lips from hers to nuzzle her behind her ear at that particular moment.
“We should be going, love,” he whispered huskily into her ear, “before I continue with a completely different nefarious plan.” Then, before she could respond, he released her, grabbed her hand again and tugged her outside into the crisp, clear October sunshine.
Having finally succeeded in hauling her reluctant arse outside, his lips twisted into his favorite smug, yet mischievous grin and, at that moment, she knew that the evil streak within him would never be entirely redeemed. She could only hope to contain it a bit. She smacked him solidly on the arm. “Prat.”
A voice rang out from above them. “Hey, no public display of affection!”
She looked up to see Ron, flanked by Bill, George, Fred and Angelina, floating above, and could hardly contain her surprise, a smile lighting her face. “Are you all going to fly with me?” she called out to the group.
“Just a few drills, maybe some three on three if you're up to it,” Ron replied.
Knowing that she wasn't entirely alone in her efforts made her look forward to the workout that she'd been avoiding, that was, until her blond companion handed her a broom. She studied the item sceptically. “This isn't mine,” she said sourly. “It's almost like a children's broom.”
“It is,” he replied. “It's lighter, not sturdy enough for a real match, but it will be much easier to control, and less stress on your arm.”
She looked up, questioningly.
“No, it's not another gift from me,” he said, sounding defensive. “Ron talked with your Healer and asked. He and your brothers chipped in. Bill figures that his daughter will get to use it when she's a little older, so don't break it.”
“Oh, fine,” she said, with a heavy, dramatic sigh. “Well, we couldn't have asked for a nicer day.”
“Nope,” he agreed. “We won't get many more of these before winter sets in, so we should make the best of it.”
It was Ron that finally shouted back to hurry them along. “Well, are you two going to jabber all day, or are you going to get up here and fly with us?”
Grinning, she grabbed her light broom and mounted it as if she'd never been injured. “You bet!”
xoxoxo
An hour later, she was flying as if she'd never been injured, but she could tell she was tiring. The feeling of being in the air again had been exhilarating and, although there was still some soreness in her injured arm, she was feeling more like her old self. She was eager to get back in proper Quidditch form and this first foray after her injury gave her hope that she'd fully recover. But she also knew that she needed to work her bum off over the winter, or risk losing her spot on the Harpies when spring training began.
Her thoughts were pulled back to their scrimmage when George threw a bad pass, and her competitive instincts kicked in, making her reach farther than her shoulder allowed. She cringed in pain, and Fred made some rude remark to George about the quality of his aim.
“I'm a Beater, not a Chaser!” George shouted in return. Then, with a wicked grin at Ginny, he said, “Besides, I wouldn't dream of hurting her, otherwise we'll likely end up stuck with her working at the shop, and she'll scare off all the customers!”
Without answering, she flipped the tail end of her broom into George's, causing him to spin violently, knocking him off and landing him right in the middle of their mother's batch of Goblin Gourds. The colorful, small, pumpkin-like fruits immediately began beating on the interloper, causing George to yelp in mock pain. “Foul!” he shouted.
“You can't call 'foul' on your own teammate!” Fred shouted back.
The others stopped playing and flew over the spectacle, laughing. Ginny looked up to share a warm grin at her boyfriend, who was grinning back and nodding in approval. It had been a wonderful day.
She looked back at her brother, still attempting to free himself from the onslaught of gourds that were determined to do him bodily harm. “Maybe you should try out for Beater instead of Chaser next year,” George grumbled to her, as he crawled from the vegetation, laughing and brushing himself off.
“Only if I get to practice on you, dear brother,” she replied smartly.
“You better watch out, George,” Fred said. “Mum will hex you if you ruined her garden too badly. Those are meant for the All-Hallows celebration.”
“It's probably time I quit,” Ginny declared. “My arm is getting tired, and I don't want to re-injure anything.”
The group dismounted and Draco put an arm around her waist as they began walking back toward the house, George fighting off an errant gourd that seemed to be still upset at him.
“Yo, Malfoy,” Ron said. “Just because I'm all right with you dating my sister, doesn't mean I want to see any of it. From my point of view, she's supposed to remain single for the rest of her life.”
George freed himself from the last offending gourd, flinging the item at Ron's backside, making him yelp in surprise, in a rather feminine way.
Ginny chuckled, leaning closer into her boyfriend as they walked along, feeling the comfort of Draco's arm around her waist, and his warmth. She didn't have to look up at him to know that he was laughing at Ron's childishness as well, though, she also noticed that he wasn't doing anything to provoke her brother.
“Don't mind him, Ginny. If you need to stay over at Malfoy's again. I'll cover for you,” George said.
She blushed, feeling rather odd to have her older brothers make any insinuations about her love life – it was just, strange.
“She only fell asleep on the couch,” Draco said, coming to her defense and she leaned into him gratefully.
“There!" Ron said, pointing emphatically at Draco. “I'm perfectly fine with it. It's just tough to lie to Mum.”
The banter was perfect, just as it should be, and Ginny was enjoying every moment of it, even if some things were a bit embarrassing. “Don't worry, Ron,” Ginny said, in her best mock-soothing tone. “I'd cover for you if you ever stay out too long with Astoria.”
Fred helpfully added, “You would Ginny, but we all know that Ron hasn't even gotten past holding hands with her.”
Ron blushed furiously, basically confirming Fred's accusation, and began to sputter something along the lines that it was none of their business. “That's not true, and you know it. I just prefer to take things slow.”
“That's not what I hear from Astoria,” Ginny added, her face lighting in an evil grin.
Ron sputtered, at a total loss for words. “But, but... Draco, help me out, mate. You know I'm being a gentleman!”
“Asking me for help?” Draco appeared thoughtful for several seconds, even tapping his chin in a semi-serious manner to give proper dramatic effect. “Ummmm... No.”
Ron now was blushing furiously, and appearing completely embarrassed as the group laughed. “You know, Malfoy, as my best mate, you are supposed to back me up.”
“Not this time. When it comes to choosing between you and Ginny in a disagreement, I'll toss you under the Knight Bus every time. You know how she hexes.”
Ginny was grateful that her close proximity allowed her to give Draco a sharp elbow in the ribs.
“Ow!” he squeaked, causing Ron to point and laugh.
“She punches pretty well, too,” Ron stated.
While George continued to taunt Ron about his “gentlemanly conduct” and Ron continued to attempt to say something in defense, Draco leaned in, whispering devilishly in her ear. “You know, you wouldn't have to hide our nefarious activities from your mother if you moved out.”
She looked up sharply, seeing the mischief in his eyes, and a touch of hope. Was he asking her to move in with him? Her breath quickened, glad that their interaction went unnoticed because everyone was still focused on tormenting Ron.
They walked into the house, everyone in a jovial mood and Ron was saved from further humiliation when they realized that a visitor, dressed in bright red Auror robes, was seated in the kitchen with Molly, consuming biscuits and hot chocolate.
“Look who popped in for a visit!” Molly said, gesturing excitedly at the visitor, a huge grin on her face.
The Auror rose from his seat and turned around, and Ginny immediately recognized him, although he looked noticeably older than when she'd last seen him. “Harry!” she and Ron exclaimed simultaneously.
“Finally graduated, eh mate?” Ron asked cheerfully, happy to see his friend.
Harry's gaze fixated on Ron for just a moment and Ginny could see a matching delighted grin on Harry's face but, then, he looked up at the rest of the group. His grin immediately dropped when his gaze settled on the blond standing next to Ginny, partially hidden just behind Fred's shoulder. Suspicion and anger appeared on his face and he drew his wand with the speed of a trained Auror. “Malfoy!”
Ginny looked over at her boyfriend, whose previously happy expression had been replaced with a look of shock, although no matching anger was on his face. She jumped in between Harry and the blond, taking a protective stance. “Put that down, Harry!”
The look of shock on Harry's face was somewhat comic.
“Whoa, Harry, just a bit jumpy are you?” George asked.
“Auror training, George,” Fred responded. “Gives them all cat-like reflexes.”
“Nah, looks more like an allergic reaction to me, Fred.”
The twins remarks completely deflated the tense moment and Harry's wand slowly dropped to his side, although it remained in his hand. Ginny heard Draco chuckle nervously behind her, and she snorted a very inelegant laugh, allowing her to release the tension of the moment. As Draco's arm wrapped around her, pulling her close, she saw Harry's eyes open wide in shock.
Ron started laughing as he motioned in Harry's direction. “That's almost the same look you had, Ginny, when you first saw me walk in with Malfoy. Remember?”
She blushed, embarrassed by the memory, and reminded of how much her perspective on the universe had changed in the past year. Looking over at Harry, she could see how ridiculous she must have appeared. His expression showed shock, confusion, and more than a touch of disbelief. His mouth was opening and closing like a fish, and his hands were twitching a bit, as if he had no clue what to do, but it was clear he felt like he needed to do something – preferably something involving a wicked hex. If she'd looked anything like that, it was no wonder they had all laughed at her then. The current situation suddenly reminded her of Draco's words that laughter was the better choice and, now, she truly agreed.
Looking between Draco and Harry, it seemed that neither was willing to laugh about anything in the near future, because Harry was glaring daggers at Draco, and Draco was showing no emotion whatsoever, which Ginny took as being a bad sign.
It suddenly struck her that one of the constants in the universe was that Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy had never gotten along. Harry had hated Draco, and Draco's favorite sport in school, outside of Quidditch of course, was needling Harry Potter to distraction.
Granted, Draco had been a royal pain-in-the-arse to Ron also. But Draco's antagonism toward Ron had been driven by social prejudice and Ron's association with Harry. The rules had changed when Draco had simply outgrown his childhood issues with the Weasleys, because they'd never had any personal basis. If anything, Ron and Draco had much in common, having both grown up in the magical world, giving them a basis for building a relationship.
A year ago, Ginny had returned home with an ingrained dislike for Malfoy. He was still the same person, as could be noted by his enjoyment of provoking and needling her to distraction. Granted, his motives were no longer malicious, so both she and Ron learned to enjoy Malfoy's devilish streak as an endearing trait instead of a vice.
Ginny suddenly realized how the rules of the universe hadn't changed quite as radically as she'd originally thought. Her view of them had.
Ginny looked over at the twins and saw that they were sporting wicked grins as they studied the silent exchange between Draco and Harry, neither of whom was pleased to be in each other's company. She felt a similar knowing grin come to her face as she met Ron's confused expression. She stepped up to her boyfriend and gave him a reassuring kiss on the cheek, before turning back to the twins with a nod, effectively giving them permission to do whatever they wished.
Draco seemed confused by her action, but broke away from his staring contest with Harry to give her a small, grateful smile. Harry, on the other hand, was standing by the table, his jaw nearly falling to the floor in shock.
Ginny grinned. It was going to be fun to watch and see if the universe would allow yet another impossible constant to be changed, or at least twisted a little.
Author notes: A/N – There you have it, dear readers. As always, reviews and comments are greatly appreciated. This chapter took a while because I wasn't very happy with the D/G interaction, or lack thereof, so it took me a while to find all the little pieces to pull it together properly. I hope you enjoyed and, again, any feedback of the constructive variety is always welcome.
The End.
gidge_8 is the author of 10 other stories.
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