Authour's Notes: Yes, I've been a bad-bad girl. I also lost my phone temporarily, so updating was sort of difficult. However, here is the chapter you've all been waiting for. Before you read, though, a request: Please don't get disgusted and stop reading after this chapter. I've led you this far and I promise that this is intrinsic to the plot in a sneaky roundabout sort of way. It's also a side-effect of one of the major plot points and a contribution to the overall theme. I've done my best to keep the tone as canon as possible, but clichés happen to the best of us. As my friend Thalia says, everything is a cliché. Look forward to more interesting developments between Draco and Ginny in the future, it's just a bit long in coming. And I do hope everyone likes Narcissa, she really starts becoming more a part of the story during and after this chapter. Five points to those who can make out all the parallels clicking into place in this chapter.
For VioletJersey, you will get a little squee in at the end of the chapter I'm sure. ;)
Again, I thank everyone for sticking with me this far. Your reviews have been wonderful and I look forward to seeing how everyone takes this new development in the story. Good or bad, let me know what you think. Be honest and I'll consider your opinions as near and dear to my heart.
I do have a request though: Please god do not tell me any more about Cassandra Claire and the Draco Trilogy. I appreciate the comparison, but the more I dwell on AIDE's comparison to DT, the more heartsick I become. AIDE is my carefully unfurled flower - nurtured over time and watered regularly - and as I learn more about writing and read more fan fiction, the less I like DT. Yes, I did read it, but that was so long ago that I barely remember anything from it. So to repeat myself: I'm happy that you like/dislike my fic, but please no more about CC and DT. Now that I've been a bit of snobby wench, feel free to read now. :P
'The daughter especially shall be handled without cherishing.
For cherishing marreth sons, but it utterly destroyeth daughters.'
~Juan Luis Vives
Ginny walked into the Headmaster's office with McGonagall's hand gripping her forearm firmly, almost as if she were afraid that Ginny would run away. The older woman's lips were thinned and her eyes had regained their steel. Ginny swallowed nervously when she saw the back of her parents' heads. Then a flash of silver caught her eye and she followed it to where Draco and his mother were sitting. Ginny whimpered.
"Ah, Miss Weasley! And Minerva, most excellent." Dumbledore stood up when the two women entered and bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement before gesturing broadly to the rest of the group. "Please join us, ladies," he said brightly, conjuring another plush armchair into existence beside Mrs Weasley and urging Ginny to sit down.
"Are you finally going to tell us why we're all here, Headmaster?" Draco asked, his tone one of lazy indulgence whilst he tapped his long fingers on his armrest. Ginny saw a shuffle in the shadows near the crystalline perfection that was Mrs Malfoy and realised that another person was here: Snape.
"I thought it would be polite to wait for Miss Weasley to join us first, young Mr Malfoy. But you may catch up on your beauty sleep soon enough, I promise you." Dumbledore smiled obliquely at Draco's scowl and Ginny had to bite her lip to contain the nervous giggles that were bubbling in the back of her throat.
McGonagall cleared her throat loudly. "May we begin now, Albus?" she asked briskly. "I've a large stack of exams to mark and I fear we'll be here until tomorrow if you don't stop playing with them and get to the point!"
Dumbledore winked at her and she flustered. "Quite right, Minerva. Thank you for being, as always, the voice of reason." Then he turned his sparkling gaze on Ginny and she squirmed in her seat. "Anytime you're ready, my dear."
Ginny's eyes popped wide. "M-me? I couldn't possibly-I mean-I don't even know what we're here for." She lifted her head and congratulated herself on a good save.
McGonagall pursed her lips and Mr and Mrs Weasley only looked nervous. Draco and his mother remained completely unperturbed and Ginny envied their calm composure.
Snape snorted and stepped out of the shadows, the soft swish of his robes disturbing the still air. "Enough of this nonsense." Snape drew himself up and addressed Dumbledore directly. "I apologise, Albus, but I would prefer to be done with this some time tonight and if you leave it up to the Weasley girl, we'll never leave." He pointed his wand at a startled Ginny and pronounced: "Paternatus Revealo Octo!"
The air around Ginny became thick and close, but when it cleared, she saw before her the shadowy forms of herself and Draco and - standing between them - two red-haired children, both about eight years old. Ginny's mouth fell open. She heard her mother's shocked yelp beside her and her father's sharp intake of breath. It was a good thing Hermione had never found this spell. Ginny felt sure that she would have dropped dead from the upset if Hermione had cast it on her that morning.
Ginny gazed numbly at the two children for a moment before glancing over to see Draco's reaction. He was wide-eyed, but he wouldn't have seemed otherwise affected if it wasn't for the way he was gripping the arms of his chair. Draco's mother, however, seemed furious and she kept opening and closing her mouth without making a sound. She had finally lost a bit of her icy composure.
When Ginny turned back to look at the forms of her children again, she caught sight of Dumbledore. The Headmaster was leaning forward in his chair; raptly studying the shadowy boy and girl with a surprised, but strangely pleased smile tugging at his lips. Then he nodded at Snape and the scene disappeared.
"This is preposterous!" Mrs Malfoy finally managed to strangle out. "How dare you offer us that-that illusion and try to claim-to claim that-"
"No one has claimed anything so far, Narcissa," Dumbledore said mildly while folding his hands on his desk. "However, if you follow the logical conclusion, it appears as though you are going to be a grandmother."
Mrs Weasley started sobbing and Mr Weasley attempted to soothe her while glancing anxiously at Ginny from over her shoulder. Mrs Malfoy was still babbling incoherently.
"Impossible! I'm too young to be a grandmother! I'm not even thirty yet and a grandmother!" She harrumphed and sat up rigidly in her chair.
Draco seemed to have recovered by this point, though. "You're thirty-seven, Mother," he said dryly.
Mrs Malfoy glared at her son and then smoothed out the skirt of her robes with trembling fingers. "Grandmother," she muttered softly. "I never . . ."
"Oh Ginny!" Mrs Weasley wailed, lifting her head from her husband's soaked shoulder. "How could you do this to us? We'll never be able to hold our heads up in public again! I thought that after Bill almost had his accident with that French tart that you lot would think more on this sort of thing. Babies! At your age!"
Ginny was mildly shocked by her mother's use of the word tart, considering it a subtle barb pointed at her. So she pursed her lips and decided to confront it all head-on . . . by shifting the attention to someone else. "Well, I didn't do it to myself, you know."
Mr Weasley finally acknowledged Draco with a sharp, whip-crack turn of his head. Ginny had seen many emotions flicker and distort her father's face over the years, but the ugly red flush creeping up his neck seemed to bode badly for Draco. Ginny almost smiled, but she managed to contain herself by mimicking Mrs Malfoy's frosty air of indifference.
"You did this!" Mr Weasley hissed, pointing his finger at Draco. "I let you stay in my home, against my better judgment, and you do this to my daughter!" he raged.
Draco had apparently never seen Mr Weasley when truly angry, and he recoiled back into his seat, his dark-circled eyes wide again. "I didn't know about this!"
Mrs Weasley stopped crying so suddenly that it was as if someone had turned off a tap. "You didn't know?" she screeched. "It's all fine for you, isn't it? Don't have to worry about other people's feelings, do you? Oh, you are just like your father!"
Draco's eyes tapered dangerously and he said in a quiet voice: "Your daughter is just as guilty as I am. And I am nothing like my father, madam."
Mrs Malfoy made a strange little hiccough noise and started mumbling again. "No pride. No pride! My son. He doesn't care about the family name at all. No, not at all."
Draco gritted his teeth, the sound particularly loud and sharp in the already tense environment. "Oh, do shut up already, Mother. I've grown quite sick of your little dramas. So perhaps if you could keep your opinions to yourself for once, we could get on with thi-"
Mrs Weasley stood up and slapped him across the face with an open hand. "Don't speak to your mother that way, Draco Malfoy! I won't stand for it." Her fisted hands were knuckle-deep in the spongy mass of her hips as she glared at Draco." I may not be fond of her, and I'm not fond of you at the moment, either. But I will not sit here and let you speak to her that way. Do you understand?"
Draco's mouth dropped open and he managed to nod after a moment.
"Now apologise to her, right now!" Mrs Weasley stood with her hands now splayed open over her hips, tapping her foot expectantly.
"Yes, of course." Draco whispered in a dumb tone. He turned to Mrs Malfoy. "I'm sorry, Mother," he parroted.
She stared first at him and then at Mrs Weasley, blinking her large, silver eyes owlishly. Dumbledore stood and motioned for Mrs Weasley to take her seat again. Ginny had silently cheered for her mother when she'd slapped Draco and wished that Dumbledore hadn't interfered so that she could do it again.
"Everyone calm down and we can discuss this like adults." Dumbledore looked sternly at Mrs Weasley. "You've always had a bit of a temper, Molly. Do you think that you can control yourself long enough so that you all can start deciding what the next course of action will be?"
Mrs Weasley blushed. "I'm sorry, Albus. It won't happen again."
Dumbledore nodded and sat back down behind his desk, steepling his fingers over the wood. "Now, Miss Weasley-do you know how far along you are?"
Ginny stared at her shoes. "It was about Christmas, I suspect," she mumbled, glancing at Draco's pallid profile from the corner of her eye. "But I don't know for sure."
He snorted and looked away. "You should have been taking a potion to prevent this sort of thing."
"I was, you thick sot! It didn't work."
Draco smirked. "Well, you did say that Professor Snape wanted Longbottom to tutor you in Potions, didn't you?"
"I've not been feeling well, obviously, and I'm normally excellent in Potions!"
Dumbledore cleared his throat and Ginny forced her eyes up to him, but he was looking at her father. "Arthur, is there anything that you would like to add to this? You've been quiet for a while."
Mr Weasley ignored Ginny and settled his gaze on Draco. "I suppose that you'll be man enough to do the right thing? Or did I misplace my trust in the fact that you're mostly an honourable man?"
Draco smiled arrogantly and leaned back in his seat, folding his hands calmly over his thin middle. "I'm sorry, Mr Weasley, but I can't marry her. I'm already engaged. Magical contract, you know." He pushed his shoulders further into his chair to get comfortable and brought one foot up to rest on the opposite knee. "Can't be broken."
Mrs Malfoy narrowed her eyes. "You've already broken it, you foolish boy!" She coughed delicately into a lace handkerchief. "It was broken the moment you compromised the Weasley girl."
Draco whipped his head around so fast that it made Ginny's brain tilt. "What? You mean I'm free? I don't have to marry that Rosier girl?"
"You're not free, Draco." Mrs Malfoy spat.
But Ginny's head was spinning while they continued to bicker, only this time from something else. She remembered Hermione's words from that morning: 'Yes, Draco. No, Draco. Oh, let me knit a jumper to keep your poor little black heart warm, Draco.' And that would be her life. She would live in a cold, dark manor house, far away from her family, knitting socks and ordering house-elves to make tea while she chased after hordes of little red-haired Malfoys. And every night, she would go to bed looking into Draco's beautiful, blank eyes; listening to his petulant demands. He would play her like an instrument, using her own emotions against her, her own love against her.
Every night for the rest of her life.
"No," Ginny whispered. "I won't do it. You can't make me do it." She turned her gaze to her father, pleading. "Don't make me marry him, Dad. Please. I-I don't want to do this."
But Mr Weasley wouldn't look at her, he was squeezing his fingers tightly around a gold object in his hand, his eyes screwed shut and whispering something that sounded suspiciously like 'not again'. Even her mother twisted her face away, staring at the far wall and some of the silver trinkets that lined the Headmaster's office. Ginny finally turned her beseeching eyes to Draco.
"I don't love you," she lied. And for the first time, she admitted to herself that it was a lie. Ginny loved every inch of him: the thick dusting of dark gold hair that trailed down his chest, thinned on his firm stomach, and ended below; each and every scar that threaded over his back; the almost-desperation that radiated from him when she left his bed for her own; his keen intelligence and barbed wit; the hope that perhaps one day he could- Draco's eyes now were hazy for a moment, and his mouth went slack before he schooled his features into something more Draco-like again. Ginny pressed on. "And you don't love me," she murmured. "Don't let them do this to us, Draco. Please."
He opened his mouth to say something, but his mother cut him off.
"Draco must maintain the family honour, girl. His blood speaks for him, not you. We are Malfoys; and as such, there are certain standards and traditions that we must keep. You're of pure blood, from one of the oldest families in the country, and are a-" Narcissa narrowed her eyes. "A suitable match for my son. Even if you are a Weasley."
Draco chuckled, seeming genuinely amused. "Don't go on so about family honour, Mother." He looked at her from the corner of his eye. "I know for a fact that you weren't always so concerned about Malfoy honour." Draco put a finger to his chin and tapped it mockingly, as if thinking. "Or was it someone else who ran away shortly after being forced to marry my father?"
Mrs Malfoy blanched and looked faint. "W-who told you about that?"
Draco shrugged. "Father. Post-humously, of course. I managed to save his journals from the Ministry. It's not as if you or he would tell me anything otherwise."
Mrs Malfoy's eyes filled with tears and when she closed them, one slipped like a glittering liquid diamond over the globe of her perfect white cheek. She quickly put her handkerchief to her mouth and turned away. Professor McGonagall stepped forward and conjured a cup of tea. She pressed it into Mrs Malfoy's trembling hands and whispered words of comfort.
But Ginny didn't have much sympathy to give Mrs Malfoy; she was too worried about what would happen next. She twisted her lips bitterly as she recalled something else Hermione had said on several occasions. "Hermione was right, you know; the wizarding world is ridiculously old-fashioned and hypocritical."
Mrs Weasley puffed up and turned to her daughter. "Well, we may be old-fashioned, as Hermione says, but it is the way things are done! And no one has ever been able to say that the Weasleys aren't honest and upright, even if they do call us blood traitors. We work hard for what we have and we've always had a solid reputation with decent wizards." She glanced surreptitiously at Draco and Mrs Malfoy before continuing. "We've always done the right thing and so will you. And your brother may be famous now for kil-defeating You-Know-Who, but even that will only stretch so far when The Daily Prophet hears about this! And surely they will if this isn't taken care of quickly." She wrung her hands and frittered. "Oh, what people will say . . ."
Mr Weasley placed a hand on his wife's arm, a flash of gold chain peeping from under his fingers. "Perhaps we've been a bit hasty, Moll. I mean, this is a different time from when we were young, and maybe the Muggles have the right ide-"
"Don't you dare say another word, Arthur Weasley!" Mrs Weasley shrilled, shaking off her husband's hand. "We are not Muggles. I've let you fill the children's heads with all sorts of their nonsense for far too long as it is, and look where they are now! Ginny will marry him. She's made her bed - and she's already sleeping in it!"
Mr Weasley's face quickly turned beetroot, and he opened his mouth to reply, but Dumbledore cut in first.
"I know that I may be over stepping my bounds here, but I'm afraid that I agree with Molly on this, Arthur. Yes, the Muggles are a bit more accepting of this sort of situation. However, I must say that our society, regrettably, is not." Dumbledore shook his head. "I wish that there were other options open to your daughter and young Mr Malfoy, but again, we are not Muggles. Their ways are not our ways, however much we may wish it were so." He looked up at the ceiling, and around at the portraits on his wall. The occupants were all very poorly feigning sleep. "Perhaps one day, things will be different. One day we can all be free to live our lives without fear." Dumbledore flicked a stern glance at Snape and the man flinched visibly before moulding back into his usual sour expression. "And choose our loves where we see fit without suffering repercussions and exile from those whose high regard we hold dear." Dumbledore looked at Ginny now. "But, unfortunately, today is not that day."
"But I don't want to marry him!" Ginny burst out. "Doesn't that count for anything? It would be horrid and I'd be miserable for the rest of my life."
Draco snorted. "And surely it would be a picnic for me." He smirked. "I didn't hear you complain before I stopped shagging you, though."
"Yes and I'm quite sure that your tarts of the hour know nothing about how you really are! A cold-blooded bastard who-"
"Shut up!" Draco yelled, standing up so fast that his chair fell over behind him. "I've told you never to call me that!"
Ginny stood up, too, and faced him, completely unafraid. "Oh, what are you going to do, Dray-co? Hit a girl?" She sneered. "You're so pathetic."
Dumbledore cleared his throat loudly and came to his feet, studying his watch before addressing the other Professors. "I'm sorry, but I must collect Mr Lupin at the front gates; we have some business to discuss. I'm sure that you two are adequate to handle this situation until I return?"
Snape nodded, his black eyes glittering with ill-concealed malice. Professor McGonagall also briefly acknowledged the Headmaster, waving her wand absently when Mrs Malfoy dropped her tea cup from shaking hands and it shattered on the floor. Everyone was silent as Dumbledore left, but after a moment, Mrs Malfoy spoke.
"I'll say this, and then I'm going home." She turned to appraise Ginny, really looking at her for the first time with her quicksilver eyes. "You seem to be a strong girl. Capable of standing up to my son, even." Her lips quivered as if she was repressing some emotion - perhaps a chilly laugh or a scream of impotent rage - but they stilled after a moment, and she continued in a thin, strained voice. "But you also seem to care about your family, and if word of this situation is made public, other things may be discovered as well if they dig deep enough." Mrs Malfoy glanced at her hands. Her delicate feet were trembling as if she wanted nothing better than to run from the room. Ginny could easily empathise with that. "It's not publicly known, for example, that your brother, Percy, was a Death Eater. And his-other associations could embarrass both of our families if they were discovered." She stared at Draco and his face flushed, his hands curled into fists of impotent anger. Then she turned her silver eyes back to Ginny. "However, if you were to marry Draco, it could ease your family's-danger of being exposed considerably, and perhaps take some of the Dark taint away from the Malfoy name as well. So I suggest that the two of you make whatever concessions are necessary."
Ginny considered her feet, tapping her shoes together and idly wondering how long it would be until she could no longer see them. Finally she tipped her head back up to stare at Draco. His face was turned away from her, but his cheek was twitching. She was sure that he would scream if he could right then. Ginny felt the same way.
"And I think that you'll find, as your brother did," Mrs Malfoy continued. "That Mond-Beleuchtetes Wasserhaus, our home, is a very pleasant place. Our grounds are extensive and the night-blooming alchemist gardens famous throughout Britain. The house itself is quite large - though no longer technically a manor - and you may even have your own room if you wish-"
"She will not have her own room!" Draco snarled without warning, his flashing, pale grey eyes snapping over to look at Ginny. "She will stay with me," he finished calmly.
There was a gleam of something fierce and wild suddenly in Mrs Malfoy's eyes for just a moment before her head nodded in a strangely servile manner.
"Yes, well, whatever you prefer, Draco."
Her lips curled up at the ends in the barest of triumphant smiles. "And she'll be able to keep me company whenever you are gone." Mrs Malfoy continued, sighing at the right places and letting one hand drift out in an elegantly casual supplication to her son. "I grow so lonely in that house by myself . . ."
Ginny could tell that there was much to learn from her future mother-in-law.
Draco gritted his teeth together and turned away to walk over to his mother, helping her from her seat a bit more forcefully than necessary.
"Let me help you to the gates, Mother," he ground out. "I'm sure that you can talk to Mr and Mrs Weasley about the contract tomorrow." Draco went to lead her from the room, but Mr Weasley bounded from his seat to stop them.
"Just a moment there, Draco." He shuffled his feet for a moment before looking at Mrs Malfoy. "I just wanted to thank you for what you tried to do for my son. We appreciate the effort even if he-" Mr Weasley swallowed hard. "Even if he didn't follow your advice."
"Arthur, what are you on about?" Mrs Weasley stood up and came over to them, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm as a silent peace treaty.
"I'll explain it later, Molly," he said patiently before addressing Mrs Malfoy again. "You have our thanks, Narcissa."
Mrs Malfoy looked at him for a moment impassively before nodding her head in acknowledgement. "He was a fine young man, your son. Even if he was naïve when it came to the way the world works. I'm only sorry that I could not keep my husband otherwise occupied. Lucius always was a rather- passionate man." She traced her fingers around her throat where a small, silver scar glittered in Ginny's sight.
Mr Weasley nodded before wiping the heel of his hand over his eyes roughly and sitting back in his seat. Mrs Weasley took this opportunity to look Draco over, pursing her lips. He straightened his posture almost unconsciously, no doubt anticipating the coming lecture. Ginny felt her lips curve into a smirk as she made eye contact with him over her mother's shoulder. He scowled at her.
"Now, Draco-" Mrs Weasley began. "I suppose that you're going to be family, so I shouldn't club you over the head with my frying pan, which is what I feel like doing right now." She glared at him for a moment. Ginny chuckled silently beside her. Usually she saved the frying pans for family, or whatever else was within reach. "I know that you're a respectful boy under that exterior, and you'll treat my daughter properly." Mrs Weasley poked him in the ribs and he winced. "Merlin knows that you need a wife! Apparently, you don't know how to take care of yourself, and I know that Ginny will at least feed you!" She tutted for a moment and fussed with his robes, smoothing them down over his chest and shoulders absently, Draco tightened his lips, but didn't otherwise move or say anything. "So no more funny business for you, young man."
Mrs Weasley waved her finger in his face before she broke away from the stern act and pulled him into a smothering hug. Draco's eyes popped out and he tried to push her away. Mrs Weasley eventually stepped back and wiped at her wet cheeks before impulsively hugging Mrs Malfoy as well. She took it less graciously than her son, but again, Mrs Weasley didn't notice.
"Now off with you. I'll expect you tomorrow about tea time, Narcissa?" Mrs Weasley asked with a brisk air that Ginny had learnt over the years meant that she was forcing herself to be cheerful.
"I-" Mrs Malfoy sighed and tenderly rubbed her side. "I suppose that will be fine." She turned toward the door again. "Come, Draco, I need to be home."
She opened the door and walked out, her full, rich robes roiling gracefully around her ankles as Draco followed behind her. He caught Ginny's eye as he left, but she couldn't read his expression.
"Now, Ginny-"
Ginny groaned as her mother and father launched into a speech. It was mostly her mother talking about how disappointed she was, with her father injecting bits here and there. Roughly half way through, Snape rolled his eyes and left the office. Only McGonagall stayed behind, looking as though she was trying desperately not to laugh - which would utterly destroy the fragile balance of teacher/mentor she strived to maintain - at Ginny's discomfort.
Eventually though, after many a severe word was repeated until Mrs Weasley finally broke down and hugged her as Mr Weasley was pushing her through the door, Ginny was able to escape back to Gryffindor tower with a pulsing headache.
Colin was waiting up for her in the common room. It was almost midnight now and everyone else had gone to bed. He smiled and beckoned her over, patting his lap.
"Come over here, Gin-girl. You look tired. Rest up while you tell me all about it?"
Ginny flopped down on the sofa and let her head fall in his lap, burying her face in his stomach. "My head is splitting and I really don't want to talk about it. But I promised you, so I suppose I can give it a try."
"Aww, poor Ginny." He lifted her hair off of her neck and started rubbing her head absently. "Tell Uncle Colin. Sounds like you had quite an experience."
Ginny moaned and nestled deeper into his fuzzy jumper. Colin always smelled so nice. It wasn't a sexy beast sort of smell like Draco had, it was more the eau de biscuits, grass, and dirt that seemed to cling to some boys. "You have no idea."
"Well?" he prompted.
"You're going to murder me."
"No, I won't."
"Yes, you will."
"Try me."
Ginny sighed. "Well, first things first, I suppose," she mumbled. "It seems that I'm pregnant."
"I could have sworn you just said- you did say, didn't you?" Colin rattled out and Ginny stuck her face further into his jumper to avoid having to look at him. She hoped that the grassy smell would calm her down, and the biscuit smell wouldn't make her hungry again.
"Oh, it gets worse," she confided to the thick woollen folds of his jumper.
"How could it be any worse!" Colin pulled her up to look at him. "Ginny, you said that you were taking that potion. You said that you would be all right!"
Ginny pushed her hair out of her face and climbed onto his lap, swinging her legs up to rest her feet on his right hipbone. "I know. But Hermione did some research and it turns out that the potion was crap to begin with." Ginny fingered the collar of his shirt that was peeking through under Colin's jumper. "She did say that it works, but not well, even when made properly; and I made such a thorough cock-up of the first batch that I'm assuming . . ."
Colin wrapped his arms around Ginny and tugged her back to his chest. She could feel the echo of breath in his lungs and closed her eyes, lulled by the sound.
"You said it gets worse?" he asked after a moment. His voice rumbled under her cheek and it comforted her. Colin was so familiar and so safe.
"I'm being forced to marry Draco."
He held her back at arm's length, his eyebrows almost in his hairline. "You're having me on. Say that again?"
Ginny looked away. "I said that I'm being forced to marry Draco."
Colin spluttered. "But they can't do that! No one can force you to- What is this, the Dark Ages? It's the twentieth century, here, Gin. I mean, I knew that the wizarding world was behind the times, but-"
She nodded. "Hermione said much the same thing today." Ginny laughed bitterly. "Oh, I can't wait until she finds out about this! She'll probably start some type of organisation or formal protest."
This was all Hermione's fault and Ginny didn't plan on speaking to her for a long time, if ever again. If only the girl hadn't blabbed to McGonagall just because she was finally feeling like normal Hermione again. If only she'd let Ginny continue on in blissful ignorance for a while longer.
Ginny's breath hitched and she let her head thud onto Colin's shoulder. "Oh, God. I don't want to marry him, Colin. It's going to be a nightmare. But it'll be worse if I don't marry him. Because of Ron, The Prophet is sure to have a good go at us, and Mrs Malfoy said that they'll probably dig up all sorts of rubbish on both our families; things that no one knows, about Percy and Mr Malfoy and- oooohh." Ginny groaned.
They were both quiet for a while, thoughts swirling through her mind. She was just about to fall asleep, safe in Colin's warmth, when he spoke:
"I'll marry you, Gin."
Ginny's head snapped up and she looked him squarely in the eye. "What?"
"I said that I'll marry you," he stated firmly. "So long as you marry someone, The Daily Prophet won't be able to say anything, and they won't go digging around in your past - or Malfoy's - because they won't have a reason."
"Oh, Colin, don't joke about that! It isn't funny."
"It wasn't meant to be, Ginny." Colin took her hand in his and squeezed it. "I may prefer men, but I've always loved you. You know that you've always been the only woman for me, the only woman that ever tempted me to go back to women."
She placed her free hand on his cheek and swallowed a lump in her throat. "No, Colin. This is my mess and I couldn't let you throw your life away like that."
"But I wouldn't be throwing my life away, Ginny!" His eyes misted and Ginny's nose and lungs throbbed in response. "I'd be with you," Colin whispered, lifting his hand to caress her cheek with his thumb, his fingers curled around the back of her ear. She was close enough to smell his sunshiny breath on her face. "And we've always been happy together. We're the best of friends, and that's a fine base for a marriage. You could even see other men if you wanted to; I wouldn't mind at all so long as you returned the favour. Or we could make it a real marriage; you know I'm good for it. Either way, we could take care of your baby together. I've always wanted to have kids someday, but I never thought I would because of my preferences. We could be happy, Gin. We could be a family together. I know we could."
Ginny sobbed and kissed him chastely on the mouth. It would be so easy to marry Colin. Ginny was more than tempted to be selfish, to keep him for herself and piss on Draco Malfoy. But she couldn't do that to her best friend, no matter what he might say. "Colin, I don't think it would work," she said, her voice thick with tears. "I would be miserable because I'd know that you would be unhappy." She put a finger over his lips. "And you can't tell me that you wouldn't because I know you. You like parties and dancing with your mates." Ginny looked at her belly and swiped her lips with a dry tongue. "You don't deserve to be tied down like that."
"But I wouldn't be unhappy." Colin protested softly. "I wouldn't. I'd have you and we could be-"
Ginny shook her head and Colin stopped talking. "I know we could. We could be a lot of things. But this isn't one of them, Colin."
He was weeping freely now, and his voice was rough when he spoke again.
"I just can't stand by and let you marry him, Ginny. I can't allow you to be thrown away like that!" His lip trembled. "You stupid pure-bloods with your stupid traditions and rules, and-" Colin's chest heaved and shuddered before he closed his eyes. "You deserve so much better," he whispered. "And I feel like I'm losing you."
Ginny put her arms around him and nuzzled her nose into the crook of his neck. "I know that Harry has always been your hero, Colin, but you are mine," she murmured against his moist, flushed skin. "Just stay with me a bit longer?" Her voice crackled and she smothered her face in his collar.
"I need a friend, tonight."
Flame me please, it's terribly cold where I am now and we're out of kindling.