“So you just moved in?” Hermione asked a week later, as she and Ginny were sitting in the library.
Hermione hadn’t noticed Ginny’s disappearance, which to be fair, was not Hermione’s fault. She woke up before everyone else, and she was asleep when it was dark and one had to feel their way to the bed. She thought Ginny had been going to bed early. She didn’t realize Ginny had moved all her things to Draco’s room, and Ginny was sure it wasn’t what Hermione had anticipated when she vouched for Draco.
“It’s not like we’re trying to have sex. We don’t even cuddle in the bed. He is a perfect gentleman. We just inhabit the same space. It makes sense since we’re going to soon be occupying the same space for the rest of our lives,” Ginny whispered, the Muffliato spell in full effect, but caution used just the same.
And while Hermione really couldn’t argue with this, she still felt torn. She knew Ron would have been irate to learn that Ginny was sharing a room with his enemy. Though why Malfoy still had to be the enemy Hermione wasn’t too sure. He’d changed since the war, and while he wasn’t exactly nice, he was at the very least respectful to her.
The point was, Ginny was marrying Malfoy regardless of anything except Malfoy dying, and Hermione had already told Ron she wouldn’t marry him if he went to Azkaban for murder.
Marriage. The thought almost made Hermione smile. Not that they had told anyone besides Harry. What, with everything going on with Ginny, Ron and Hermione wanted to wait to announce their engagement. It would be a small ceremony. Only family and friends. Hermione had already drafted a guest list and owled it to Ron and Harry—their best man—at Grimmauld Place. Hermione was hoping Ginny would be her Maid of Honor. She knew she might not be Ginny’s, but as Ron had always said, Ginny was too popular for her own good.
But no, Hermione wasn’t going to judge Ginny even if she were going to have sex with Malfoy. One day she probably would be shagging him. Ginny had made it clear that she wanted one—just one—baby after her Quidditch playing days were over. Even before Malfoy, back when her and Harry had been a thing, she had told him one baby, so he better make it a good one. Now they wouldn’t be seeing a raven-haired baby popping out of Ginny. It would most likely be a redhead. Or a strawberry blond, depending on the genetic makeup of past generations of Malfoys.
Hermione herself hoped for a curly haired ginger of her own one day. She had fallen in love with the red hair that made the Weasleys so well known. And for the love that permeated their household. Even now, going to the Burrow was a treat. To be engulfed in Molly Weasley’s arms and have her send random care packages to Hogwarts (”Because I know you overwork yourself, dear”) was a welcomed surprise. Hermione was glad that whatever children she had would grow up in a family so filled with love and kindness.
And honestly, Hermione wondered if Ginny and Malfoy—no, Draco, she needed to call him Draco—might not have the same thing with time. Faerie magic was mysterious, and not very well understood, but if it were Fate, wouldn’t that suggest they were soul mates? Of course when Hermione had pointed this out to Ron he had blown a gasket, but he could be very irrational at times, especially when it came to his little sister. He wanted to be the older protective brother, but Ginny was capable of taking care of herself. She had been since she woke up on the Chamber floor and realized Voldemort himself had tricked her.
“Hermione?” Ginny asked, shocking the older woman out of her thoughts (because really none of them were kids anymore).
“Sorry, I was thinking about Ron,” Hermione half confessed. Half truths seemed to be her new thing. She wasn’t exactly lying, but not telling Ginny that she was going to be marrying her brother seemed a lot like lying to Hermione.
Ginny gave a small understanding smile that made Hermione feel even guiltier.
“You miss him?” Ginny asked.
Hermione gave a sad smile as she answered. “I do. But we spent months on end together. A break was needed for our relationship. We saw each other at our very worst. And we’re both still here, so that says something I hope.”
Ginny reached over and grasped Hermione’s arm, giving it a light squeeze.
“Hermione, if anyone can make it work, it’s the two of you. It won’t be easy at all. I’m sure half the time you’ll want to strangle my dear brother just like I do. But he loves you more than he loves anything. He confessed to Harry multiple times that if it weren’t for you they’d have never stood a chance against You-Know-Who. You are his better half. You two got this.”
And if that caused Hermione to smile as bright as the sun, well, who could really blame her?
She only hoped one day she was telling Ginny the same thing about Draco.
~~~
Ginny Weasley was stunning. That was the only thought going through Draco’s head as he watched her bent over a textboo, underlining things in it. She was busy and oblivious to his attention, her hair wild and crackling like a halo about her head. It caught the light and shone golden and copper. It was as vibrant as she was.
Draco had gotten used to her constant presence. Her witty retorts. Her inability to wake up without groaning like getting out of bed was a chore—and he had to practically drag her down to the Great Hall every morning. He had gotten used to the way she curled her feet underneath her. And how she would come in from Quidditch practice and commander the bathroom for all of twenty minutes, hair even wilder coming out then when she went it.
And tomorrow was their match against each other. Draco watched her, wondering if she was at all anxious about the game. But for all the world, Ginny seemed completely unfazed. She was busy with History of Magic, a subject most dropped as soon as they possibly could. But not Ginny. She was usually raptly focused during the class. Professor Binns didn’t put her to sleep. In fact it was rumored that Ginny had asked him just how much his ghost self had seen. Of course it was only a rumor, but he could see her doing it. She was ballsy.
Ginny Weasley—soon to be Ginny Malfoy—was an unusual creature, and she didn’t seem to mind spending her time with Draco. In fact, she seemed to enjoy his company, where very few these days did. She wasn’t put off by him.
As the wireless played Celestina Warbeck, Ginny used her wand to cut to another station. Apparently growing up on it made one want to hear angrier music. She actually had a very eclectic music taste, and Draco was just overall fascinated by his future wife. He wasn’t sure how she felt about him, but he was very sure that if he had to live with her for the rest of forever, he wasn’t going to regret it.
But love? Could he? He knew she was capable of it. Ginny oozed love and kickass-ness in equal measures. But everyone outside of his family seemed to believe Draco Malfoy was incapable of feeling anything for anyone. But that couldn’t be true because just yesterday he’d hexed Blaise for calling Granger a Mudblood, and that had been for Ginny of course. And maybe just a little to show his gratitude for Granger getting him this awesome room. But mostly for Ginny’s approval.
And he had gotten it. She’d thrown herself back into her seat in Potions class and laughed heartily, telling Slughorn with a smile that she didn’t know how Zabini came to be throwing up slugs, but maybe if he was going to talk trash he deserved to have it come out of his mouth anyway. And Draco had watched her face and hair glow like the setting sun, and he knew it had been worth it. He would never see these idiots again. He might run into them from time to time, but for the most part, he would be in his own world after school. So why did it matter what they thought?
It didn’t. Ginny had pointed that out on multiple occasions. Every time she propped her feet up on his lap in class and he raised an eyebrow at her. Every time he held her hand. Every time she kissed him on the cheek. She reminded him that it would be their families they had to worry about. But even then, Draco didn’t think there would be an issue. Apparently the Weasley and Malfoy Matriarchs had found common ground—love of their children. And Narcissa Malfoy did risk her life for Harry’s, and Ginny said that according to her Mu, Harry was as good as her kid, so in her mother’s mind, Narcissa Malfoy saved her son’s life.
He wasn’t sure what the two ladies owled about, but Ginny knew they owled regularly and popped ‘round to visit one another. They were working together to fix up the house that Draco and Ginny would be moving in to; they wanted it to have a touch of familial feel. He was sure things weren’t perfect. His mother wasn’t too keen on him marrying Ginny, had been overheard telling his father that she wondered why the Faeries had to choose her son for this, but really, he had been consoling her in letters as of late, and that seemed to be making a difference.
His father was another matter. He didn’t have much to say at all. Draco had no idea how his father felt about this. But according to his mum, he was polite to the Weasleys. And that was not an easy thing for his father if he didn’t respect someone. So maybe the war had changed them all for the better. His father was certainly more open to saying he loved Draco, and that had been a huge shock for both him and his mother. Not that Draco didn’t know it, because he did. But it was an unspoken truth. Now it was out in the open. His father doted on him now. He told him consistently that he was proud of him. He showed affection he’d never shown before.
Truth was, the war had changed all three of them in ways they had never expected, and Ginny Weasley was changing him in ways he’d never anticipated. Even Blaise had sneered as he tried to trip him later and called him a defender of Mudbloods. And maybe he was, but if it made Ginny happy, if it made her world a brighter place, wasn’t it kind of worth it? For once he had something worth fighting for.
Hermione hadn’t noticed Ginny’s disappearance, which to be fair, was not Hermione’s fault. She woke up before everyone else, and she was asleep when it was dark and one had to feel their way to the bed. She thought Ginny had been going to bed early. She didn’t realize Ginny had moved all her things to Draco’s room, and Ginny was sure it wasn’t what Hermione had anticipated when she vouched for Draco.
“It’s not like we’re trying to have sex. We don’t even cuddle in the bed. He is a perfect gentleman. We just inhabit the same space. It makes sense since we’re going to soon be occupying the same space for the rest of our lives,” Ginny whispered, the Muffliato spell in full effect, but caution used just the same.
And while Hermione really couldn’t argue with this, she still felt torn. She knew Ron would have been irate to learn that Ginny was sharing a room with his enemy. Though why Malfoy still had to be the enemy Hermione wasn’t too sure. He’d changed since the war, and while he wasn’t exactly nice, he was at the very least respectful to her.
The point was, Ginny was marrying Malfoy regardless of anything except Malfoy dying, and Hermione had already told Ron she wouldn’t marry him if he went to Azkaban for murder.
Marriage. The thought almost made Hermione smile. Not that they had told anyone besides Harry. What, with everything going on with Ginny, Ron and Hermione wanted to wait to announce their engagement. It would be a small ceremony. Only family and friends. Hermione had already drafted a guest list and owled it to Ron and Harry—their best man—at Grimmauld Place. Hermione was hoping Ginny would be her Maid of Honor. She knew she might not be Ginny’s, but as Ron had always said, Ginny was too popular for her own good.
But no, Hermione wasn’t going to judge Ginny even if she were going to have sex with Malfoy. One day she probably would be shagging him. Ginny had made it clear that she wanted one—just one—baby after her Quidditch playing days were over. Even before Malfoy, back when her and Harry had been a thing, she had told him one baby, so he better make it a good one. Now they wouldn’t be seeing a raven-haired baby popping out of Ginny. It would most likely be a redhead. Or a strawberry blond, depending on the genetic makeup of past generations of Malfoys.
Hermione herself hoped for a curly haired ginger of her own one day. She had fallen in love with the red hair that made the Weasleys so well known. And for the love that permeated their household. Even now, going to the Burrow was a treat. To be engulfed in Molly Weasley’s arms and have her send random care packages to Hogwarts (”Because I know you overwork yourself, dear”) was a welcomed surprise. Hermione was glad that whatever children she had would grow up in a family so filled with love and kindness.
And honestly, Hermione wondered if Ginny and Malfoy—no, Draco, she needed to call him Draco—might not have the same thing with time. Faerie magic was mysterious, and not very well understood, but if it were Fate, wouldn’t that suggest they were soul mates? Of course when Hermione had pointed this out to Ron he had blown a gasket, but he could be very irrational at times, especially when it came to his little sister. He wanted to be the older protective brother, but Ginny was capable of taking care of herself. She had been since she woke up on the Chamber floor and realized Voldemort himself had tricked her.
“Hermione?” Ginny asked, shocking the older woman out of her thoughts (because really none of them were kids anymore).
“Sorry, I was thinking about Ron,” Hermione half confessed. Half truths seemed to be her new thing. She wasn’t exactly lying, but not telling Ginny that she was going to be marrying her brother seemed a lot like lying to Hermione.
Ginny gave a small understanding smile that made Hermione feel even guiltier.
“You miss him?” Ginny asked.
Hermione gave a sad smile as she answered. “I do. But we spent months on end together. A break was needed for our relationship. We saw each other at our very worst. And we’re both still here, so that says something I hope.”
Ginny reached over and grasped Hermione’s arm, giving it a light squeeze.
“Hermione, if anyone can make it work, it’s the two of you. It won’t be easy at all. I’m sure half the time you’ll want to strangle my dear brother just like I do. But he loves you more than he loves anything. He confessed to Harry multiple times that if it weren’t for you they’d have never stood a chance against You-Know-Who. You are his better half. You two got this.”
And if that caused Hermione to smile as bright as the sun, well, who could really blame her?
She only hoped one day she was telling Ginny the same thing about Draco.
~~~
Ginny Weasley was stunning. That was the only thought going through Draco’s head as he watched her bent over a textboo, underlining things in it. She was busy and oblivious to his attention, her hair wild and crackling like a halo about her head. It caught the light and shone golden and copper. It was as vibrant as she was.
Draco had gotten used to her constant presence. Her witty retorts. Her inability to wake up without groaning like getting out of bed was a chore—and he had to practically drag her down to the Great Hall every morning. He had gotten used to the way she curled her feet underneath her. And how she would come in from Quidditch practice and commander the bathroom for all of twenty minutes, hair even wilder coming out then when she went it.
And tomorrow was their match against each other. Draco watched her, wondering if she was at all anxious about the game. But for all the world, Ginny seemed completely unfazed. She was busy with History of Magic, a subject most dropped as soon as they possibly could. But not Ginny. She was usually raptly focused during the class. Professor Binns didn’t put her to sleep. In fact it was rumored that Ginny had asked him just how much his ghost self had seen. Of course it was only a rumor, but he could see her doing it. She was ballsy.
Ginny Weasley—soon to be Ginny Malfoy—was an unusual creature, and she didn’t seem to mind spending her time with Draco. In fact, she seemed to enjoy his company, where very few these days did. She wasn’t put off by him.
As the wireless played Celestina Warbeck, Ginny used her wand to cut to another station. Apparently growing up on it made one want to hear angrier music. She actually had a very eclectic music taste, and Draco was just overall fascinated by his future wife. He wasn’t sure how she felt about him, but he was very sure that if he had to live with her for the rest of forever, he wasn’t going to regret it.
But love? Could he? He knew she was capable of it. Ginny oozed love and kickass-ness in equal measures. But everyone outside of his family seemed to believe Draco Malfoy was incapable of feeling anything for anyone. But that couldn’t be true because just yesterday he’d hexed Blaise for calling Granger a Mudblood, and that had been for Ginny of course. And maybe just a little to show his gratitude for Granger getting him this awesome room. But mostly for Ginny’s approval.
And he had gotten it. She’d thrown herself back into her seat in Potions class and laughed heartily, telling Slughorn with a smile that she didn’t know how Zabini came to be throwing up slugs, but maybe if he was going to talk trash he deserved to have it come out of his mouth anyway. And Draco had watched her face and hair glow like the setting sun, and he knew it had been worth it. He would never see these idiots again. He might run into them from time to time, but for the most part, he would be in his own world after school. So why did it matter what they thought?
It didn’t. Ginny had pointed that out on multiple occasions. Every time she propped her feet up on his lap in class and he raised an eyebrow at her. Every time he held her hand. Every time she kissed him on the cheek. She reminded him that it would be their families they had to worry about. But even then, Draco didn’t think there would be an issue. Apparently the Weasley and Malfoy Matriarchs had found common ground—love of their children. And Narcissa Malfoy did risk her life for Harry’s, and Ginny said that according to her Mu, Harry was as good as her kid, so in her mother’s mind, Narcissa Malfoy saved her son’s life.
He wasn’t sure what the two ladies owled about, but Ginny knew they owled regularly and popped ‘round to visit one another. They were working together to fix up the house that Draco and Ginny would be moving in to; they wanted it to have a touch of familial feel. He was sure things weren’t perfect. His mother wasn’t too keen on him marrying Ginny, had been overheard telling his father that she wondered why the Faeries had to choose her son for this, but really, he had been consoling her in letters as of late, and that seemed to be making a difference.
His father was another matter. He didn’t have much to say at all. Draco had no idea how his father felt about this. But according to his mum, he was polite to the Weasleys. And that was not an easy thing for his father if he didn’t respect someone. So maybe the war had changed them all for the better. His father was certainly more open to saying he loved Draco, and that had been a huge shock for both him and his mother. Not that Draco didn’t know it, because he did. But it was an unspoken truth. Now it was out in the open. His father doted on him now. He told him consistently that he was proud of him. He showed affection he’d never shown before.
Truth was, the war had changed all three of them in ways they had never expected, and Ginny Weasley was changing him in ways he’d never anticipated. Even Blaise had sneered as he tried to trip him later and called him a defender of Mudbloods. And maybe he was, but if it made Ginny happy, if it made her world a brighter place, wasn’t it kind of worth it? For once he had something worth fighting for.
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