Ginny wasn’t happy. Who would be if they had been told they had to marry the prissy Draco Malfoy? He was a spoiled, entitled brat, and quite frankly Ginny could not stand it. She planned to beat it out of him if she had to. Not literally of course—violence was never the answer, he had just looked like he deserved to be slapped last night—but through her sheer willpower.
Ginny imagined Draco had only had his parents to tell him, though. What a sad prospect. McGonagall had been present, explaining the intricacies that were known of Faerie magic to her, and why she did indeed believe it could only be the work of the Faeries. So while Ginny had been shocked—”you mean Harry isn’t my soulmate?”—she had a better support system to help her through. No one in her family was exactly happy about it. If truth was told, her brothers wanted to kill Draco Malfoy. Especially Ron. He seemed to think that was the easiest way to get rid of the problem. It was rather amusing.
Ginny Weasley wasn’t a quitter. She had a fire in her soul that never died. She was the youngest—and most powerful, even Dumbledore had said so once—out of seven siblings. So how did Draco Malfoy expect that he could run all over her? And she was going to have his baby because dammit one day she wanted to be a Mum. After her Quidditch career was over, of course. One couldn’t have both at the same time; not feasibly at least. Quidditch was constant practices and games. It would require long periods of being away. And Ginny was getting the attention of the Holyhead Harpies already.
Ginny liked to thank Professor Slughorn for that. A man who had come back to teach at Hogwarts under Dumbledore’s plea. He had taken over the Potions position—which meant that Snape taught Defense, and Harry and him had butted heads the whole way until Harry left—and Slughorn liked Ginny. He said she had raw talent that he hadn’t seen in ages. That she could have taken on a young Dumbledore and given him a run for his money. And he knew Gwenog Jones, captain of the Holyhead Harpies. So he’d sent Gwenog an owl. And she had shown up to a game, and so began Ginny’s possible career.
Gwenog wouldn’t take her until she was done with her schooling, though. They’d been through a bloody war—Draco returning for his seventh year, Ginny just going into it—and she had to wait to go out and be a Quidditch player? It was ridiculous. Hadn’t they all seen—and done—enough? She knew magic no one had ever thought she was capable of. She had battled with Bellatrix Lestrange. She’d shared minds with a young Tom Riddle. She had killed in the Final Battle. And she had to wait to ride a bloody broomstick?
But it was what it was, as she often told herself. She watched from her seat in the Great Hall at the Gryffindor table as Draco Malfoy came to breakfast looking haughty. Whose wand was shoved up his arse? she wondered. He always looked as though something were wrong in his world. They’d been through a fucking war; they deserved some jubilation!
Ginny made what one could call a Slytherin decision. It was surely calculated and manipulative. She’d be damned if she’d let Pansy Parkinson try to snuggle up to her unwanted man. No matter how much of an arse Draco was, he was to be her husband, and Pansy Parkinson was not going to stop that.
So with all the calculated Slytherin in her, and the brashness of her Gryffindor self, Ginny Weasley got up, strolled over to the Slytherin table, and sat down next to Draco Malfoy, who simply looked at her as though she were crazy.
“Yes?” he asked, when it was plain she wasn’t going to get up and leave or say anything.
Ginny shrugged. “I thought we could eat together.”
And Draco wanted to tell her to get the hell away from him. He didn’t want her, no matter how pretty she was—and sure, he would admit she was pretty—but he knew they were going to have to eventually come to terms with each other. But did that mean right now? Couldn’t they wait until after school was over and then pretend like something life changing had happened?
“Weasley,” Parkinson said snottily, “Your place is with the losers,” she said, gesturing towards the Gryffindor table.
Ginny smirked. “Last time I checked we won the bloody war, so whose the real loser… bitch?”
Pansy Parkinson gasped, and Ginny looked ready to climb over Draco to punch Pansy dead in the face. No one had told him his future wife was going to be this feisty. Draco pinched the bridge of his nose as the two women began squawking at each other—because it certainly wasn’t talking. Normal, civil people talked and Weasley was not civil—until McGonagall and Snape came to sort out the mess.
“She called me a bitch!” Pansy screeched, standing up and pointing at Ginny.
Ginny gasped and put a hand over her mouth feigning shock.
“I would never use such terrible language. How dare you!”
And just like he knew they would, the teachers turned to the only person who’d been nearby. Draco Fucking Malfoy. It wasn’t enough that he was already a Slytherin outcast. It wasn’t enough that he had no power or influence with his name. Now, not even forty-eight hours after discovering Weasley was to be his wife, he had decide whether or not to back her story.
But was that really a tough decision? He would be spending literally everyday with her. Even if her Quidditch career did take off, they’d still be married. Still have at least one child together. They’d still have to deal with each other. And Draco knew women. If he didn’t take her side now he would never hear the end of it.
“Weasley said a lot of things, but she certainly didn’t say that. Really, Pansy, lying?” he asked as he brought the cup of coffee to his mouth.
And Ginny wore the biggest smirk, as though she had just won the whole bloody war all over again. And if Draco had paid attention he might have thought her beautiful, but he was busy burying himself in his misery. Which demanded more and more coffee. Coffee until he was fucking shaking from the caffeine. Sugar until he had a sugar crash later. He needed something, and dammit he needed it now.
“Draco!” Pansy screamed as McGonagall docked points and assigned detention. But Draco didn’t respond to her. He simply poured more coffee and scooped heaping amounts of sugar into it. Maybe he could make it through the day if he just had enough coffee.
Parkinson stalked off, huffing and clearly not knowing why she had been turned on. Well soon the whole school would know. Weasley had probably told everyone the way it was. As Ginny clambered back onto the bench to sit next to him, he rounded on her, already having it in his head that she’d gone and told the whole school their… situation.
“Does everyone already bloody know?” he hiss under his breath, just in case they didn’t actually know.
Ginny looked at him like he was dumb.
“Know what?”
Draco lifted a brow and motioned between them, and Ginny fell into peals of laughter, causing everyone else who hadn’t been watching the great Weasley/Parkinson debacle to now look over and wonder just what in the bloody hell was going on.
“I haven’t told a soul. I figured, since no one remembers, no one needs to know how this,” and Ginny gestured between them “came about. We could just say we found one another attractive.”
And Draco had to give her points because clearly she wasn’t just some dumb Gryffindor who rushed into battle without thinking. This girl was quick on her toes, and she had some flame in her soul that kept her glowing. She was interesting to say the least.
“Right, good. Then… Hogsmeade this weekend. How about we make it an official date? I asked you because I love the wildness of your hair,” he said lamely, causing Ginny to laugh more.
When she had calmed down, she nodded. “Okay, that works. I’ll see you in class, Draco.”
And with that, Ginny flounced back to the Gryffindor table, leaving everyone else in the Great Hall gossiping about what could possibly be going on between Draco and Ginny.
Ginny imagined Draco had only had his parents to tell him, though. What a sad prospect. McGonagall had been present, explaining the intricacies that were known of Faerie magic to her, and why she did indeed believe it could only be the work of the Faeries. So while Ginny had been shocked—”you mean Harry isn’t my soulmate?”—she had a better support system to help her through. No one in her family was exactly happy about it. If truth was told, her brothers wanted to kill Draco Malfoy. Especially Ron. He seemed to think that was the easiest way to get rid of the problem. It was rather amusing.
Ginny Weasley wasn’t a quitter. She had a fire in her soul that never died. She was the youngest—and most powerful, even Dumbledore had said so once—out of seven siblings. So how did Draco Malfoy expect that he could run all over her? And she was going to have his baby because dammit one day she wanted to be a Mum. After her Quidditch career was over, of course. One couldn’t have both at the same time; not feasibly at least. Quidditch was constant practices and games. It would require long periods of being away. And Ginny was getting the attention of the Holyhead Harpies already.
Ginny liked to thank Professor Slughorn for that. A man who had come back to teach at Hogwarts under Dumbledore’s plea. He had taken over the Potions position—which meant that Snape taught Defense, and Harry and him had butted heads the whole way until Harry left—and Slughorn liked Ginny. He said she had raw talent that he hadn’t seen in ages. That she could have taken on a young Dumbledore and given him a run for his money. And he knew Gwenog Jones, captain of the Holyhead Harpies. So he’d sent Gwenog an owl. And she had shown up to a game, and so began Ginny’s possible career.
Gwenog wouldn’t take her until she was done with her schooling, though. They’d been through a bloody war—Draco returning for his seventh year, Ginny just going into it—and she had to wait to go out and be a Quidditch player? It was ridiculous. Hadn’t they all seen—and done—enough? She knew magic no one had ever thought she was capable of. She had battled with Bellatrix Lestrange. She’d shared minds with a young Tom Riddle. She had killed in the Final Battle. And she had to wait to ride a bloody broomstick?
But it was what it was, as she often told herself. She watched from her seat in the Great Hall at the Gryffindor table as Draco Malfoy came to breakfast looking haughty. Whose wand was shoved up his arse? she wondered. He always looked as though something were wrong in his world. They’d been through a fucking war; they deserved some jubilation!
Ginny made what one could call a Slytherin decision. It was surely calculated and manipulative. She’d be damned if she’d let Pansy Parkinson try to snuggle up to her unwanted man. No matter how much of an arse Draco was, he was to be her husband, and Pansy Parkinson was not going to stop that.
So with all the calculated Slytherin in her, and the brashness of her Gryffindor self, Ginny Weasley got up, strolled over to the Slytherin table, and sat down next to Draco Malfoy, who simply looked at her as though she were crazy.
“Yes?” he asked, when it was plain she wasn’t going to get up and leave or say anything.
Ginny shrugged. “I thought we could eat together.”
And Draco wanted to tell her to get the hell away from him. He didn’t want her, no matter how pretty she was—and sure, he would admit she was pretty—but he knew they were going to have to eventually come to terms with each other. But did that mean right now? Couldn’t they wait until after school was over and then pretend like something life changing had happened?
“Weasley,” Parkinson said snottily, “Your place is with the losers,” she said, gesturing towards the Gryffindor table.
Ginny smirked. “Last time I checked we won the bloody war, so whose the real loser… bitch?”
Pansy Parkinson gasped, and Ginny looked ready to climb over Draco to punch Pansy dead in the face. No one had told him his future wife was going to be this feisty. Draco pinched the bridge of his nose as the two women began squawking at each other—because it certainly wasn’t talking. Normal, civil people talked and Weasley was not civil—until McGonagall and Snape came to sort out the mess.
“She called me a bitch!” Pansy screeched, standing up and pointing at Ginny.
Ginny gasped and put a hand over her mouth feigning shock.
“I would never use such terrible language. How dare you!”
And just like he knew they would, the teachers turned to the only person who’d been nearby. Draco Fucking Malfoy. It wasn’t enough that he was already a Slytherin outcast. It wasn’t enough that he had no power or influence with his name. Now, not even forty-eight hours after discovering Weasley was to be his wife, he had decide whether or not to back her story.
But was that really a tough decision? He would be spending literally everyday with her. Even if her Quidditch career did take off, they’d still be married. Still have at least one child together. They’d still have to deal with each other. And Draco knew women. If he didn’t take her side now he would never hear the end of it.
“Weasley said a lot of things, but she certainly didn’t say that. Really, Pansy, lying?” he asked as he brought the cup of coffee to his mouth.
And Ginny wore the biggest smirk, as though she had just won the whole bloody war all over again. And if Draco had paid attention he might have thought her beautiful, but he was busy burying himself in his misery. Which demanded more and more coffee. Coffee until he was fucking shaking from the caffeine. Sugar until he had a sugar crash later. He needed something, and dammit he needed it now.
“Draco!” Pansy screamed as McGonagall docked points and assigned detention. But Draco didn’t respond to her. He simply poured more coffee and scooped heaping amounts of sugar into it. Maybe he could make it through the day if he just had enough coffee.
Parkinson stalked off, huffing and clearly not knowing why she had been turned on. Well soon the whole school would know. Weasley had probably told everyone the way it was. As Ginny clambered back onto the bench to sit next to him, he rounded on her, already having it in his head that she’d gone and told the whole school their… situation.
“Does everyone already bloody know?” he hiss under his breath, just in case they didn’t actually know.
Ginny looked at him like he was dumb.
“Know what?”
Draco lifted a brow and motioned between them, and Ginny fell into peals of laughter, causing everyone else who hadn’t been watching the great Weasley/Parkinson debacle to now look over and wonder just what in the bloody hell was going on.
“I haven’t told a soul. I figured, since no one remembers, no one needs to know how this,” and Ginny gestured between them “came about. We could just say we found one another attractive.”
And Draco had to give her points because clearly she wasn’t just some dumb Gryffindor who rushed into battle without thinking. This girl was quick on her toes, and she had some flame in her soul that kept her glowing. She was interesting to say the least.
“Right, good. Then… Hogsmeade this weekend. How about we make it an official date? I asked you because I love the wildness of your hair,” he said lamely, causing Ginny to laugh more.
When she had calmed down, she nodded. “Okay, that works. I’ll see you in class, Draco.”
And with that, Ginny flounced back to the Gryffindor table, leaving everyone else in the Great Hall gossiping about what could possibly be going on between Draco and Ginny.
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