How It Ends

PART 1 “Ginny's 4^th year”

“Angelina still won't let him resign,” Ginny said, as though reading Harry's mind as he stared sadly at her brother. “She says she knows he's got it in him.” And Ron did have it in him, she knew it too, but he got so nervous in front of the school, and especially in front of Malfoy and the rest of those bloody Slytherin's. He ought to just knock him out, she thought sourly, the next time Malfoy starts that awful song.

She would have knocked Malfoy out herself if he hadn't of taken her by such surprise that evening. She had been the last one to leave the Quidditch field after the game; she was in no hurry to get back to the common room and hear the Gryffindor's give her their half hearted thanks for keeping them from losing so atrociously. Instead she lingered by the broom shed, watching the sun sink sadly into the lake and planning on staying right where she was until minutes before curfew.

“Why the long face? You caught the Snitch.”

Ginny didn't have to look up. “Go away Malfoy.”

“You don't sound like you mean it.” She felt him sit down beside her and rest his back against the shed. “Nice view here. Never noticed it before.”

“But I don't suppose you've spent much time sitting behind the broom shed, have you?” she snapped.

“Sitting, no,” he laughed. “What about you, Weasley?”

Ginny rolled her eyes in disgust and stood up, ready to stomp off the field.

“Sit back down.” Malfoy tugged lightly on the hem of her Quidditch robes.

She stared down at him, uncertain. “What do you want?”

“I just saw you sitting here,” he paused, staring her straight in the eye, “by yourself.”

“So?”

“So I came over.”

“Forgive me if sound rude,” she told him dryly, “but we've never exactly gotten along.”

“I think I could get along with you,” he told her, his tone infuriatingly calm. “It's the terrific trio that I have problems with.”

Ginny let one brief laugh escape her chest before she stopped. “Goodnight then.” She quickly placed her broom inside the shed and headed for the castle. She had only counted to four before Malfoy had fallen into step beside her.

“If you ever need lesson's I'd be glad to help you out with them,” he announced.

Ginny stopped and turned to face him. “Just when I was beginning to wonder if you really weren't the bloody git I always thought you were, you go and prove me wrong.”

He just laughed and then, standing in the stone tunnel, he leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “Goodnight Ginny Weasley.”

Ginny sat in the common room and watched without comprehending as Ron remained motionless in the corner, slumped into his chair, Fred and George talked half heartedly to Harry, and Hermione poured over her homework. Now and again, she caught her fingers trickling over the spot on her cheek where Draco's lips had been hours before.

She spent Sunday in the library with Hermione trying her hardest to do her homework and desperately attempting to ignore Malfoy as he sat behind Hermione and winked.

Ginny managed to avoid Malfoy for the majority of the remaining school year, but they did have a few scuffles in the hall when he and the members of the Inquisitorial Squad tried to take points away from Harry and the other Gryffindor's.

“Weasley!” a voice rang out behind Ginny. “Stop.”

“Excuse me?” she snapped without looking up, as Malfoy paced himself beside her.

“I said stop,” he repeated.

“You'd think that will all your money, your parents could have bought you some manners!”

He laughed, but quickly stepped in front of her, blocking her way.

“What do you want?” she demanded, trying to side step him.

A crooked smile lit his pale face. “I want to give you a chance to make up for the points the Terrific Trio lost today.”

“What?” Ginny suddenly stopped moving. “What are you talking about?”

“You haven't heard?”

“If I had, I wouldn't be asking! So either tell me, or get the hell out of my way!”

“Careful, careful, Ginny Weasley. Our new fat cow of a headmaster has created an Inquisitorial Squad, and guess who's leading it?”

“And what exactly does the Inquisitorial Squad do?” Ginny asked dryly.

“Mostly take away points from the Gryffindors,” he laughed. “And make sure that no one steps out of line.”

“That sounds like you, Malfoy. Get out of my way. I'm going to be late.”

“That's another thing we can do,” he smiled wickedly. “Detain students.”

“I'm going to lunch.”

“Don't you want to hear my offer?”

“Not really.”

“Come on Weasley. I know you've been thinking about me since that night.”

Ginny refused to admit it, but he had crept into her mind increasingly often since the night he had kissed her on the Quidditch field. “I have more entertaining things to think about.”

“Double the points, Weasley. That's what I'm offering you.”

Ginny stared at him, taking in the person she used to despise, and wondering how it was possible that she could want him so badly now. His steel colored eyes pierced hers and in the quiet of the hall, she was sure he could hear her heart pound against her chest. “I don't want the points.”

Malfoy's eyes narrowed, as if he were unable to decide what her words meant, but before either of them could react, they were interrupted by a group of 1^st year Hufflepuffs. “Too late,” he breathed, softly. Then he turned on his heal and took 15 points away from the Hufflepuffs for being too noisy.

Weeks later, when Ginny found herself trapped in Umbridge's office, in the death grip of a hefty Slytherin girl, Malfoy sided up to her and whispered in her ear, “One more chance, Weasley.”

“Get away from me!” she hissed back. “I still don't want you!”

And it was Ginny who dug Malfoy out of the luggage rack on the train ride home at the end of the year. “Good job,” she told him dryly as she undid the final hex.

He glared up at her but remained silent.

“I hope you don't mind if I leave them hexed,” she motioned towards Crabbe and Goyle.

“What do you want?” he snapped, flexing his wrist back and forth.

“To take you up on your offer.” She climbed up on the luggage rack and crawled towards the back, sitting down next to him. “Or is it too late?”

***

PART 2 “Ginny's 5^th year”

Ginny was alone in the library, studying feverishly for her O.W.L.S., even though they were still several months away. She hadn't been keeping her grades as good as they should have been, but the year had been hard so far, with Harry continually having to battle He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in his head, and Dumbledore and the other Professor in the Order being so distracted. Not to mention the growing death toll.

“Can I sit?”

She knew without looking up that Draco Malfoy was standing in front of her. She hadn't seen much of him lately, except on the Quidditch field, and that was fine, as the ride home on the Hogwarts Express last term tended to haunt her dreams.

“Sure.”

“Do you have a date to the dance?” he asked her, as if he was picking up the conversation they had dropped just moments before.

“The dance?” she asked, finally looking up and taking in his silver eyes and pale hair. Merlin, he was gorgeous. She had seen him stride across the Quidditch field just a week before, angry after a rough practice, but looking absolutely glorious. His broom was in his left hand, and his jumper in his right, wearing only those leather pants. That was when she wondered exactly why she hadn't let him take her virginity on the train.

“The Yule Ball. You know, the one Dumbledore announced a couple weeks ago?”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

“Oh. No. I guess not.”

“Then will you go with me?”

Ginny glanced around the full library. Everything still seemed to be in place, but she felt like she was dreaming. They hadn't exchanged as much as a hello since the afternoon they had spent together in the baggage compartment and now he wanted her to go to the dance with him. “What about Pansy?”

“If I wanted to go with her, I would have asked her,” he replied calmly.

Ginny wanted to tell him to sod off and how horrible he was for spending the afternoon snogging her on the train and then not speaking to her again, but she was drawn instead to his hands, admiring his long slender fingers, that edged out from under his robes and found herself wishing that she could again see more of him uncovered. “Sure.”

Ginny wore Hermione's old robes to the dance. “I'm not trying to make you take them,” Hermione insisted the week before, “but they are too small. I tried them on this morning and these are about three inches too short, so I placed an order for new ones.”

The robes were forest green and in absolutely perfect condition. “Are you sure?” Ginny asked.

“Absolutely,” she said firmly, shoving them in Ginny's hands. “What am I going to do with them?”

The robes fit her perfectly and set off her flamed colored hair. “You look great,” Draco told her when she met him at the bottom of the stairs.

Later that evening, they sat outside in the cool air, escaping the glares of Ron and Harry and Pansy.

“Remember the song the Sorting Hat sang last year?” Draco asked, running his fingers across the palm of her hand.

“Yeah, about uniting,” she recalled, the tingling from her hand spreading up her arm and through her body.

“Do you ever get the feeling it was talking about me and Potter, specifically?” His voice was even, but his eyes refused to meet hers.

Ginny nodded. “I think a lot of people thought that.”

Draco was silent.

“What do you think?”

“That it was about me and him.”

“They said that Godric and Salazar were the best of friends. And that they were most powerful when they were united.”

Draco let out a deep breath. “How would you choose?”

Ginny glanced at him uncertainly.

He tightened his grip on her hand and pulled her closer. “Would you choose yourself or the world?”

“What do you mean?” Their faces were just millimeters apart.

“I've known for a long time,” he answered dismissively.

“Known what?”

“Exactly what I've wanted.”

“But what then?”

“I won't be a Death Eater. I won't be like my father. And so I guess that leaves me with just one option.” He buried his face in her neck, and mumbled, “I guess I fight with Potter.”

***

PART 3 “Three years later”

Ginny Weasley-Malfoy sat at her kitchen table and stared down at the box of photos she had uncovered. She supposed her mum or one of her brothers or maybe even Hermione had stashed them away until she could face them. The photos on top had been given to her by Colin Creevey, right after it was all over.

A smile forced its way onto her face as she watched a younger version of herself laugh and laugh as Draco charmed his strawberries to dance across the table and then jump onto her plate. Her hand always shot to her mouth in surprise and she remembered how astonished she was to see the berries spell out `I love you'.

She flipped through photos of her and Draco splashing each other in the lake during his last year at Hogwarts, photos of the two of them making plans with the Terrific Trio, Quidditch photos, and finally, photos of her and Draco's small wedding. They had married only three days after Draco finished his final year at Hogwarts. Her parents were reluctant, reminding her that she was barely 17, but they consented when they saw that she was determined. None of the Malfoy family was in attendance of course, but all the Weasley's, Harry, Hermione, and many of their school mates and teachers were there.

Hot tears crept into the corners of Ginny's eyes as she looked at the photos and begged herself not to recall what had happened only weeks after their marriage. Harry had tried to go on his own, meeting Voldemort in Galloway Hill for one final show down. Hermione figured it out and tipped off Ron, and Draco overheard. They all went, her brother's also, and Dumbledore and the rest of the Order, and of all who went, less than half came back.

She felt herself slip lower in her chair, her breath coming in ragged, painful gasps, and she begged herself to forget. Forget what happened. Forget it, she tried to command herself. He saved everyone. He and Harry saved everyone. Selfishly, she wished that he hadn't saved everyone. She secretly preferred that she be living a dangerous, fearful life with Draco than a sad, safe life without him.

“Will you wait for me?” he had asked her, days before that last battle.

“When?”

“I mean if anything happens. So that we can be together again.”

“Don't say that!” she commanded. “We're going to be fine.”

“I'm just asking, Ginny. I need to know.” His eyes were large and pleading, although his facial expressions said otherwise. “I don't want to wait on the other side only to find out that you moved on over here.”

“Of course I would.”

Ginny dropped her head to the table top and sobbed, wishing she could go with him. There was no one now, no one who could make her strawberries dance, no one to make her laugh, no one to tell her how sexy she looked when she woke up in the morning. “I miss you,” she sobbed. “Why did you leave me?”

Her brain painfully recalled the moment she had found him, still and motionless, crumpled to the ground, his wand still gripped tightly in his hand.

The sensible Ginny, the one who kept her living from day to day, snapped, “Stop this! He is not gone forever, you know. Remember how much he loves you.”

But all Ginny could think about was dancing strawberries. “I miss you.”

**************

~finished~

Ginny unhexing Draco on the train is a pretty common theme, so just know I didn't dream it up. Also, once I read a really sad story about Draco turning his strawberries yellow. Does anyone know the title of that story?

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