Draco stared up at the ceiling as he tried to force his sluggish brain into comprehending what had just happened. Deciding starting from the beginning was best he thought back to the previous morning when he had woken up feeling awful. His throat had been clogged and sore, his nose hot and dry and his head swollen and empty. At first he had merely been insulted. He hadn’t been ill in years; he certainly wasn’t going to be now. Then he had dragged himself to the kitchen and found himself exhausted by the short walk down the stairs.

Slowly making it back to bed he’d had to face the truth. He was ill. Possibly dying if how his head felt was any indication. After not being able to muster any energy to inform anyone of his imminent demise he had fallen asleep and been out for several hours. After that he had managed to stay awake an impressive three hours on the couch before sleep took hold of him once more and he woke up to find it to be the next morning. Despite the time that he had spent passed out asleep he could sense no noticeable improvement of his state.

 Annoyed, his brain kicked back in gear. He was properly sick. Already wishing he could take more than the recommended dosage of Ibuprofen he cursed fate for a while. A loud buzz interrupted his sulking and he found his mood improve slightly seeing a text from Ginny. Answering that he wasn’t too well he suddenly noticed the date on the phone screen and groaned. He had completely forgotten. The Quidditch match he was taking Score to was that same afternoon.

“You still look like crap.” As if sensing his thoughts Score had appeared in the doorway. Dressed in baggy trousers and a T-Shirt of Draco’s that made his slim arms look even skinnier, he slouched uncharacteristically, as if he knew already.

“Not too weird, I feel like it.”

Score stuck his hands in his pockets and leaned against the doorframe.

“So I guess I’m flying solo for the match. James and Teddy are busy today and Uncle Blaise has that big case in court.”

“Nice try. I am not letting you go by yourself to a Quidditch match between the Falmouth Falcons and the Montrose Magpies.” Not until hell and possibly the entire stand of spectators froze over. The two teams were notorious for having rowdy supporters and Score was too young to Apparate away should anything happen.

“Da-ad! It’s the semi-finals for the Cup, I can’t miss it.” Score straightened up from leaning against the doorjamb, his hands now clenched at his sides.

“Maybe I’ll feel better later.” Please, god, he added in his mind.

“What if you don’t?”

“Then you’ll have to settle for the radio, I’m afraid. Score, I’m sorry, I didn’t plan for this to happen.”

“I can’t miss it, I have to go. I’m thirteen, I’ll be okay.”

“Score-“ The patience his son rarely tried worn thin by being sick frayed but the interruption that followed was more than welcome.

“I’ll take him.” Ginny spoke as she came whirling out of the fireplace, the green flames dissipating as quickly as they had appeared.

“I’m sorry?”

“I said-“ Ginny withdrew her wand and neatly vanished the ash she had tracked in. “I’ll take him. I’m happy to, it’s the semi-finals after all and the Magpies have been really hungry for victory this year.”

“I…I’m….” His son began and Draco could see Scorpius struggle between wanting to go and not really wanting to go with Ginny. In the end the wish to see the match he had waited for months to see won. “Montrose will never win. The Falcons have Bolt,” Score claimed, referring to the Center Chaser of the Falmouth Falcons, Christopher “Bolt” Bolton.

Ginny tilted her head.

“He’s good, but he’s just one person. The Magpies have a Keeper-Beater-Chaser interaction that borders on telepathic.”

“That will never win the match.”

Ginny smiled and arched a brow.

“I guess we’ll see. In fact - I bet you a sickle the Magpies will win.”

“You’re on.” With that Score left and Draco wasn’t entirely sure in what mood.

Ginny turned her attention to him and crooned,

“You poor thing.” She set down the bags he now noticed she was carrying. Crossing the room to sit on the bed she put a cool hand to his forehead and shook her head disapprovingly, a bit as if he’d done something ridiculous like wear his trousers on his head.

“You don’t have to feel obliged, you know.” His voice was a bit croaky but Ginny seemed more preoccupied with poking at the sheets, the crumpled tissues and throat lozenges, all the while tutting quietly under her breath.

“Obliged to do what?”

“To take him to the game.”

Ginny snorted in amusement and flicked her wand to vanish the crumpled tissues.

“Oh, yes, it’s a real hardship seeing the semi-final of the British National Cup. It’s been sold out for months, Draco.” She shifted on the bed. “And, besides that, I’m looking forward to spending some time with Score. I’d like to get to know him better.”

So different, was all his flu-impaired mind could come up with, so different from Daphne. She’d never wanted to know her own son, much less anybody else’s. “Now, what should we do about you?”

 For a frightening half hour after that the normal Ginny was replaced by an efficient, domestic demon that was obsessed with killing viruses.

 However scary, he couldn’t really complain when he found himself in clean pajamas, on fresh sheets, a tray holding a bowl of steaming soup, a cup of tea and a bottle of pepper-up potion on his bedside table. Next to it was a box of tissues, a sheet of Ibuprofen and a nasal spray. Gone were all the crumpled tissues, the hot, wrinkled sheets and the closed in smell. Breathing as big of a sigh of relief as he could with his restricted airways he marveled at the sensation of feeling completely taken care of. He couldn’t actually remember the last time anyone had fussed over him when he was sick. At the Manor it had been the elves frightened slipping around, or his mother’s simpering, ineffectual fluttering.

 He had never actually lived with the Montrelli’s though he was sure Maria would have the same, warm, efficient way of taking care of someone as Ginny. Daphne had not had an ounce of it and had lacked the empathy to ever imagine herself in someone else’s shoes. She would, however decorative, have been the worst person thinkable to attend a sickbed. In fact, his whole life he had been surrounded by women who never had never fulfilled any purpose but the purely aesthetic. The wives of the men his father had socialized with had all been beautiful. Beautiful and shallow, like paper dolls, empty of substance and thought, as interesting as paper once it crumpled. It was just one more way he found Ginny endlessly fascinating, she was so far from the insipid veneered trophies he had known so many women to be growing up. Ginny was indeed beautiful, but she was also caring, warm and brave. Smart, funny and exciting. It was such a different experience falling for her he wondered if he had ever been in love with Daphne at all.

 Hearing the door shut downstairs he hoped his son and he were alike enough for Score to enjoy spending some time with Ginny. Had he not been sick he would have probably spent the time pacing and wondering if either Score or Ginny would send an SOS call first. But in his state he could only stay awake another ten minutes of worrying before sleep claimed him yet again.

o.O.o

The stadium was filled with the expectation Ginny remembered from the games she’d been to and the ones she’d played. Sitting in the locker rooms, the feeling of it had seeped in from outside, easily transferred in the buzz of noise, the shuffle of thousands of feet, the mix of hundreds of voices. It had set butterflies circling in her stomach. Butterflies that had crowded and fluttered and however uncomfortable they were she’d known they made her play better. It had once made her think that Harry would have made a great professional Quidditch player as he performed so well under stress. Then again, he probably had more stress at his work as an Auror already, though of the more unhealthy variety. Sighing internally, she wished for the millionth time he would get to have more fun. He was not on her list of favorites at the moment but she always would love him and wished him the best. And she thought the best thing for him would be to just let go a little. Not shoulder the burdens of everyone around him.

To chase away the vague disappointment of what her life hadn’t turned out to be that Quidditch stadiums somehow always gave her, she turned to the boy next to her.

“Good turnout today.”

“I guess.”

She tilted her head. It was probably the least polite she’d ever heard him be and internally she smiled. Finally they might get somewhere, if he just let go of that impeccably polite front.

“It’ll make everyone play better. Nerves and all.” He held out for thirty seconds of silence and she gave him points for stubbornness. That was something Weasleys understood and appreciated. She thought it a sign of character.

“Were you? Nervous, when you used to play, I mean.” Leaning back in her seat Ginny tried to make the orange plastic chair more comfortable. She’d rather be on a broom out on the field any day than on the non-ergonomic plastic contraption cheerily referred to as a seat.

“Oh yes, terribly so. I always thought if I ever stopped being nervous that’d be the time to stop playing. It’d mean I didn’t care as much anymore. Or so I thought.“

“Did you care when you had to stop?”

“I did. But not as much as I thought I would. Quidditch is a dangerous sport and I couldn’t imagine a justification to continue once I had James. I miss it sometimes, the excitement, the exhilaration, the adrenaline. But what I got in return is better.”

Score looked away and Ginny realized his mother had probably not given up as much as a manicure appointment for her son, if what Draco said was anything to go by. And now she’d told him she’d happily given up her career for her son.

“Ah, Score, I…I didn’t mean to make it sound like-“

“It’s okay. It’s how it should be. It’s what my dad would do.”

Ginny smiled and felt her insides grow warm because she knew it was true and he had made sure his son knew too.

“Yes, he would.” Then a roar rose around them as the two teams zoomed out on the pitch and they both stood. For the next half hour they were both focused on the game, the speed of it almost too fast to see. At 130-140 to the Falcons a squabble about an offside broke out and after loudly announcing the ref was blind as well as stupid and should get hexed from here to the other side of the pitch, Ginny sank down. Next to her Score was trying not to smile at her outburst. Reining in her temper, after enjoying it for a second longer, the involvement, the adrenaline pumping, she ran a hand through her hair.  She thought this might be a good point to start a more serious conversation.

“I know why, you know.”

“Know what?”

“I know you think I’m going to hurt Draco. I know you feel like it’s your job to make sure he doesn’t get hurt again. I know you saw how deeply your mother hurt him, how hard he tried for her.”

Score crossed his arms and a completely adolescent cross look settled in his eyes.

“I wish he hadn’t.”

Ginny tried to fight the surprise off her face.

“Oh?”

“She never wanted us. She used to smile when I was talking and get this look on her face and I knew she wasn’t listening.”

Ginny knew that look too. Harry had often worn it when playing with James. Frowning, she wondered if James felt the same but wouldn’t say. Relieved to be rid of the benevolent neglect. No longer reminded of taking second place in a parent’s mind.

“She’d forget to pick me up or send someone else. She would pat me on the head and say “maybe later,” and leave. And he accepted it for much too long. It’s better being just the two us.”

“I can understand that.”

“You can? Your parents only pretended they loved you too?”

The bitterness in his voice was beyond his years and Ginny’s heart twisted. How had this woman lived with herself after trampling the feelings of the two people she was supposed to treasure the most? Strangling the anger that wanted to pour out and not help anyone, Ginny cleared her throat.

“No, you’re right. I don’t know what that’s like. My parents are great. I have a large family so I did have to share their attention but there was always someone to listen. I have six brothers and Harry was like a member of the family since he was eleven. We lived squeezed into a house that was only held up by magic. It’s great. Your dad used to call it a hovel.” She smiled, actually feeling a bit nostalgic about the sarcastic, high-pitched voice of the boy he had been. It was easy to forgive his snide comments knowing the man the boy had grown into.

“Was he…was he really horrible?” Ginny tucked her feet under her to give herself time to search for a diplomatic answer.

“Sometimes. He didn’t really pay me much mind, he was more interested in Harry and my brother and Hermione. He could be quite mean to them. But most of all he was really young and had been raised to believe he was the center of the universe. You’re meant to be the center of your parent’s world but he had been taught to believe he was the master everyone’s universe. So I can’t say I liked him much but I can understand how hard it must’ve been for him as well. In some ways, probably better than he knows.” Because Lucius Malfoy had singled her out once too and the experience still sent chills down her spine, woke shadows in her dreams, turned them to nightmares in a heartbeat. Draco’s father had been ice, clear and sharp, and his flat eyes trained on her had made her feel small and tender and desperately wishing he’d look away. And that had been for the five minutes those eyes had been focused on her. Draco had lived with their cold gaze for a lifetime. Yes, she could easily imagine how you turned out with a skewed view of humanity when Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were your role models.

 Score seemed to consider this for a while and Ginny was struck again by how similar the son and the father looked. The pointy features were almost all gone, giving way for chiseled bone structure and the indications of the man who was to come. And if he followed in his father’s footsteps in this regard too he’d have to fight the girls off with a stick soon.

“Are you in love with my dad?”

“Yes.” Ginny tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She didn’t think it was the time to lie, not if she wanted to get to know the obviously sharp boy. “Does that bother you?”

“No. Maybe. A little.”

“That’s fine, I realize that you and your dad are a team. It must be hard to see him care for someone else.”

“That’s not it. Or not all of it.” He crossed his arms over his chest and sank deeper into his orange chair. “I don’t want to see him hurt when it doesn’t work out.”

“Why do you think it won’t work out?”

“Well, for one you still haven’t told your family about him.”

She tensed and evasions lined up on the tip of her tongue. They were busy, the timing wasn’t right, the Weasleys were a lot to take in. Then she relaxed again.

“You’re right. I want to. I’m not ashamed of him, I’m more worried about how my family will treat him. They don’t know him for anything but what he was.”

“Don’t you have to trust him enough to handle it if you’re going to be together?”

“I…You’re pretty clever, aren’t you?” She sent him a sideways glance.

“I like to think so.” He smirked, a copy of his father’s, if a bit friendlier, and she shook her head in amusement.

“All right. I’ll figure out a way to introduce him.” Then the call was finally made in favor of the Falcons and the game picked up again.

o.O.o

Ending up in a burger place with the tension between them eased by talking and enjoying the game that had ended 270-280 to the Montrose Magpies they found a table by the window and sat. Seeing some grudging respect in Score’s eyes when she ordered a cheeseburger with everything and extra chips she smiled. She knew more about teenage boys than he would ever imagine so she could easily read the train of thought about her.

“So, are you thinking about something there or are you just a sore loser?”

“I am not! The judge was blind. The snitch catch was clearly a foul.”

“Dream on. The judge had 20/20 vision. Just call, just winners.”

“I thought you said he was “as blind as he was stupid and should be hexed to the other side of the pitch.””

“That was then. He recovered admirably. It’s practically a miracle. He could see the Magpies were clearly better.”

“I think you need glasses too.”

“At least I have all my mental faculties intact.”

The laugh escaped Score before he could catch it and with a grin Ginny took a bite of the enormous cheeseburger. Swallowing partly, she asked,

“So, Score, could you explain something to me?”

“What?” The guarded look returned as his eyes narrowed and he lowered the chip he was about to put in his mouth while Ginny continued,

“What’s an MMO? James keeps talking about them and I don’t know anything about them except for that you can’t pause them.”

o.O.o

Draco woke up groggily and glanced at the clock. Realizing Score would be back from the game he heaved himself out of bed, gratefully noting his head felt a bit lighter. Dragging himself down the stairs he heard sounds from the living room and entering, felt his jaw drop. On the floor was Score and Ginny, involved in playing GTA. Strewn around them were sweet wrappers, glasses and on the table a bowl of popcorn stood forgotten as his son laughed when Ginny sped down an LA highway, police cars hot on her trail. Leaning against the doorjamb he smiled. Of course she would play video games with his son. Would take him to a Quidditch game, would feed him and make him laugh. Had he not already been in love with her this image would have done it. Entering he spoke,

“I hope that’s not how you drive normally.”

Turning to smile at him she replied,

“Oh, I don’t actually know how to drive a car.” To mark her words the pink cabriolet she was driving swerved and smashed nose first into a storefront and exploded to Score’s noisy delight.

“Clearly. Let me show you how it’s done.” He accepted the controller from her and she joined him on the couch. Feeling his brow she said,

“Okay, your fever’s down a little. Ten minutes, then it’s back to bed.”

Score choked back a laugh and Draco sent him a mock dark glance.

“For that you’re going down, midget. Get your controller.” Bringing up the menu system, he continued, “So, who won today?”

“That would be me. I’m a sickle richer.” Ginny leaned back on the couch. “If you play your cards right I’ll buy you something nice with my winnings. I’m feeling generous today.”

“I’m flattered. If you need any hints I could use a new car. My pink one had an accident. Something sporty but not too flashy would be nice.”

Laughing, Ginny put a hand on his knee and winked at Score.

“Let’s see how you handle this pretend car first.”

o.O.o

Score climbed up the stairs slowly. Thankfully going to bed had been a staggered process today. His dad had gone up first as he was still ill. A politely pretend-oblivious thirty minutes later Ginny had announced she was going to bed and Score had waited ten minutes in the living room to be sure to not meet her in her pajamas anywhere upstairs. Or some other worse state of undress.

 He still wasn’t sure what he was supposed to think of Ginny. Or feel. She was nice, and funny and sometimes he forgot she was old enough to be his mum. Then sometimes, when she looked at James, or ran her hand though his hair, he felt something small and broken inside twist a little. He’d never had that. Had thought he’d stopped missing it. It made him feel disloyal to his dad that there was a part of him that wanted it. His dad tried so hard to be everything to him, and Score had always thought that was all he needed. And it was. But there was still things he wished for. And maybe Ginny could be the one to take that place, where the empty wish was.

 He had been surprised (and relieved she didn’t want to continue their earlier serious discussion) after the game in the restaurant when she had asked about MMOs. Surprised that she would want to know. His mother hadn’t cared a bit for what he was interested in or what he did with his time. But Ginny had listened, asked questions and genuinely seemed to want to get to know what he liked. It was strange but not as weird as he’d thought it would be to hang out with her. She was actually pretty fun. If this was what it was like to have a stepmother it wouldn’t be too bad, he supposed. Especially if she continued to make his dad happy.

 He sat on his bed and let himself fall back. If things continued, that was. Ginny had said she was going to introduce his dad to her family but his mother had said a lot of things too. Score wasn’t going to take her word for it. Not until he’d seen proof himself. But, he thought as he turned over on his side, he really, really wanted to believe she would keep it.

o.O.o

Entering Draco’s kitchen Ginny was surprised to find he wasn’t alone. Still recovering from the flu he’d not seen anyone for days (except for her as she refused to leave him to wallow alone in his misery). A man was standing with his back to her, with dark hair curling over his shirt collar and clad in a tweed jacket. Opposite him, Draco was leaning against the counter, still dressed in the sweatshirt and cotton trousers combo, a variety of which he’d worn for the duration of his illness. Some of his color had started to return and the glazed look was gone from his eyes. The part of her that was her mother nodded internally in approval.

 The man standing opposite him seemed to be finishing a story, his deep voice melodious with humor,

“-and then the damn thing blew up!”

Still chuckling at the unknown’s anecdote, Draco spotted her.

“Ginny, there you are.”

“Ginny?” The other man turned and she felt her eyes widen in surprise, imagining she looked rather like a muggle cartoon character.

“Neville?” The last time she’d seen him he’d probably been nineteen and had still been the round-faced, slightly pudgy boy she remembered from all her school years.

 The man standing in front of her was a little bit shorter than Draco but fit and lean. His face had narrowed and a chiseled bone structure had emerged. His eyes were still a startling blue, his hair still dark but a tad long and his cheeks were covered in stubble, giving him a slightly rumpled look. He was dressed in a tweed jacket, a knitted sweater and corduroy jeans. The overall impression struck somewhere between the boy-next-door and sexy professor. The thought sparked a vague memory that he was now the Herbology professor at Hogwarts.

“It’s good to see you, Ginny.” Neville had been in Harry’s year at school but they’d always gotten along well. As Harry rarely saw anyone besides Ron and Hermione from his school days she hadn’t seen Neville since a hastily assembled reunion party two years after the Trio’s seventh year. Harry had gone for five minutes and then left an uncomfortable Ginny to hold stilted conversations about the weather with his old school friends.

“And you. You look great. Really great.”

Neville’s lips twitched at her probably rather impolitely surprised tone but he nodded in thanks.

“You do too, you’ve barely aged at all. I’m…I heard about you and Harry and…ah, sorry to hear it didn’t…” The old Neville shone through for a moment as he fumbled for the words and Ginny’s heart clenched in recognition when she knew the boy who had taken her to her first dance. He cleared his throat, “Well, I have to be off, Ollie’s waiting, but remember to only take the potion once a day, Dray. It was nice to see you, Ginny.” With that he left and wide-eyed Ginny turned to Draco.

“You’re friends with Neville Longbottom?”

“Yes, for a few years now.”

“That’s so…strange.”

“At first maybe. We were among the first to move over to the muggle side. There were some tough adjustments to face. We bonded over that, I suppose.”

“Neville works at Hogwarts but lives on the muggle side?”

“He has special dispensation from the school and an Apparition point in his building’s elevator.”

“Convenient.” She hoisted the groceries she’d brought up on the counter.

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to. Besides, you’re still getting better.”

“Well, it’s much appreciated. I may never want to get better.” He squeezed her shoulder in thanks as he still wouldn’t kiss her for the risk getting her sick too. Her insistence that if she would get the same flu she would have had it by now had fallen on deaf ears. Taking what she could get she leaned into him for a moment before opening the fridge and beginning to unpack the bags.

“Who’s Ollie?”

Distracted by curiously poking through the bags in the typical male response to new food he replied,

“Who?”

“Neville mentioned Ollie was waiting.”

“Oh, Oliver Wood, Neville’s flatmate.”

“The live together on the muggle side?” A vague memory of a tall, built boy with reddish-brown hair and determined eyes flashed in her mind’s eye.

“Yeah.” Draco reached for a glass in the cupboard and filled it with water. “It’s not…Well, it’s not public knowledge but they’re partners. That’s why they live on the muggle side.”

Ginny nodded, knowing fully well that the wizarding world was still behind in some things. Feeling her heart clench in sympathy for Neville she thought she understood the friendship better. Both Draco and Neville must know what feeling alienated and alone was like. Catching his look, she turned to him.

“I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thanks.”

“I can’t believe how different he looks now. He’s so…”

Draco’s lips twitched.

“Fit?”

“I was going to say confident,” Ginny responded primly.

“Sure you were. He’s a health nut now. Works out, eats sprouts and smoothies.”

“No way.”

“I’m not kidding. He went on a juice fast last year and I think Blaise was stunned speechless for ten minutes after he told us.”

Ginny tried to conjure an image of the shy Gryffindor telling the two former Slytherins about going on a juice fast and came up woefully short.

“Blaise knows him too?”

“Yeah, they bonded over Italian leather shoes and carb-restriction.”

“I hope you’re not restricting your carbs. I brought pasta for dinner.”

“I make a point to not restrict them. In fact, I like to eat carbs in front of them. I might send Blaise a picture of our dinner later.”

Ginny laughed as she brought out the fresh tagliatelle. Harry had never done things like that. Something silly, just because it was funny. He would have been better for it, she thought as she watched Draco smile while sending off a picture of the bag of pasta to his friend from his phone. But she was also starting to believe this was how she was better off. With a man who made his friends laugh, his son grow and his family matter. Feeling that she was exactly were she should be in this moment, happiness rose within her like champagne, bubbling and fizzing, as she turned to the stove to magic up boiling water.