Convenient

jennay

Rating: PG13
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Draco & Ginny
Book: Draco & Ginny, Books 1 - 5
Published: 14/08/2005
Last Updated: 23/11/2005
Status: in_progress

She watched him. She loved him. He never noticed - until it was convenient.

Chapters

1. Watching Him

2. Planning

3. The Party

4. The Wedding

5. Morning After

1. Watching Him

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author's Note: Well, this is rather rough, and completely un-beta'd, but it has been lurking around my head for a while as a sort of daydream, and something inspired me to actually write it down. First time I've actually written one of these thought/stories down - usually they stick around my head for a while then float off somewhere. It feels surprisingly good, though, so I might try it more often! This is veering a little from OotP (i.e. there is no mention of Ginny hexing Draco, or any of her boyfriends - but there is talk about the Order). In other words, I picked out the bits from OotP that didn't fit in and kept what did.

Anyway, hope you enjoy, and drop me a line if you have something nice to say. Or even if you don't, actually - I'm not too fussy! Niceness will be loved and the givers of niceness hugged, with ice cream, while flames will be used to keep me warm in this cold Australian weather and their flamers will get ice cream to cheer them up.

This is rated for mentions of slash, and a small smattering of language. Really, it's just to be on the safe side. However, if mentions of male/male relationships squick you out, you can either skip down over the paragraphs where it's mentioned (but really, it's very mild. Not even any kissing) or just don't read if you feel uncomfortable. There may be a bit more explicit stuff in the next few chapters, haven't decided yet. Cheers!

o-o-o

It was an arrangement born of convenience from the very first.

He had always done what seemed to be the convenient thing, although there was usually a deeper undercurrent that few sensed. But she had. She had watched him from afar, because she couldn't get up close.

She had watched him after she had come out of the Chamber in her first year, knowing that it had been his father who had placed her there, however indirectly. Sitting at the Gryffindor table after Harry, always the hero, had won the house cup for her house yet again, she had gazed across at him, sitting so calmly with his housemates. Always he was so poised, so collected - it baffled her, and inexplicably drew her. She had watched him, wanting to hate him for his family and everything that he stood for - but she couldn't.

And so the pattern for the years following had been set. She noticed him as never before, saw beneath the surface as so few could, but still she stayed away. For a time she tried to hate him - oh how she tried - but it was no use. So she simply watched him.

She saw him at the start of his seventh year, straight after they had arrived back from the holidays. He had been pale, his face drawn and tense, and oddly uncertain. And she had discovered the horrors he had faced that holidays. She listened as the tale washed through the school and broke a little inside every time she heard it. As much as she had hated his father for what he had done to her, she had never wished him dead. And certainly had never wished for him to die in such a way - torturously, and by the very hand that he had so worshipped. That, she would never wish on anyone.

But the thing that made it even worse was the fact that he had died for no reason - Lucius hadn't made any great defiance or failed in any mission. He was killed as an example - an exhibition of Voldemort's powers, carried out on a toy that had outlived its usefulness.

She saw him shattered from the inside by what he had witnessed, knocked down by the loss of such a respected, if not loved, figure in his life. She watched as he sunk into the darkness of despair, as he warred within himself about the choice he had to make - when he came up, which side would he rise on? She knew, before anyone else, what he had chosen. And she listened, hidden behind a statue in the corridor, when he pulled Harry to one side and told him his decision.

There was suspicion, of course, as to whether he was genuine or not. After all, this was Draco Malfoy they were talking about, evil git extraordinaire. A paragon of virtue he was not, and certainly not someone she had ever expected to see practicing in the same classroom as she, preparing for the fight against Voldemort.

And still she watched him.

She saw as he was slowly accepted, although he remained a sarcastic, cynical git to the end. She noticed him changing, slowly, until it was rare to hear him call Hermione a mudblood, and even his insults to Ron had less malice. He never changed towards her, because he had never done more than tossed a few snide remarks her way before. Not because he liked her any more than anyone else, but because he'd never noticed her. No one ever did.

And she watched him.

She observed, as his hatred-fuelled rivalry with Harry turned into something else entirely - they still warred at Quidditch, but there were cheerful undertones instead of dark ones in the insults they hurled at each other. She watched as the two boys, so striking both in their own right and together, changed from enemies to friends, and then to lovers. They were beautiful together, and yet she ached. Not for the dark-haired hero, as she once might have, but for his tall, blonde counterpart. They loved each other fiercely as the storm brewed over the wizarding world, with all the desperation of those whose time was running out.

And she watched as the storm broke, sweeping their love away with it.

She saw him, the day after. He looked destroyed - and she broke a little more inside. For although Harry lived through the final battle, everything changed afterwards. Strange things happen to people when they look death in the eye, and everyone came out of the battle a little different. Harry went back to being the cheerful boy he had been in his earlier years, before the weight of the world had descended upon his shoulders. And Draco finally renounced everything the Dark stood for, turning away into a different life. There was no way they could stay together, and they had known it as soon as they had seen each other through the smoke clearing off the battlefield. She knew it as well.

So, she watched him.

He turned to his sport for solace, and went into representative Quidditch. Some said he was never as good as Harry, but she disagreed - both were good, but after the battle Harry had lost a little of his need to win, while Draco's remained unchanged. So, in the end, it was Draco who was called forward into the British team while Harry was happy to stay as Seeker for a smaller team while raising his children with his wife, Hermione. Both she and Draco were at their wedding, and she saw that he was genuinely happy for Harry. And she watched as he went off with one of the bridesmaids afterwards.

And he never noticed her.

But then, why would he? No one else did, really. One of the consequences of being the youngest, and a girl, in a family full of assertive, dominant boys was that she tended to fade into the shadows. She didn't really have many close friends, preferring to blend in with a crowd and be able to slip off on her own if she liked. She finished her last year at Hogwarts after the cloud of Voldemort had been lifted, and graduated with good enough results to train as a Healer. She'd never had a boyfriend, because no one had ever asked. And she'd never gone looking for one, because she was in love with the man she had been watching for so long.

It hadn't been like the movies, her falling in love with him. There had been no fireworks, no big bang, and no pivotal turning point. It had been a gradual thing, a slide that she didn't even notice until she hit the bottom with a thud. Somewhere between realising that he had an irrepressible hunger for chocolate and watching him flick his sweaty hair back after a Quidditch game, she had stepped into space. Through watching him get blasted back onto cushions during a DA meeting, through seeing him come to friendly blows with her brother over a sport-related argument, she had begun her fall. And it was when she saw him and Harry together for the first time, realised the depth of their feelings for each other, and felt her heart crack in two, that she realised what had happened.

There was no way to reverse it - she had tried, again and again, to purge her love of him from her heart, because it was impossible. Nothing would ever come of it - because she was nothing, and he was everything.

He was beautiful, in a very masculine sense. White-blonde hair, slicing cheekbones, grey eyes that changed as though they were in tune with the sky, and a charisma equal to none other she had ever encountered - all combined into one man. Is it any wonder she had fallen so hard, so fast? And is it any wonder that he would never notice her?

But in this she was wrong, for he did notice her - in a way she would never have expected. As a friend.

It was somewhat of a shock the first time he spoke to her, for he had not done so for years. Even though they were fighting for the same desperate cause, he had never had a reason to notice her - particularly after he had given up on insulting Weasley's for the hell of it. She had blended into the shadows, watching him, while he stepped out into the light and didn't have a clue.

It was really more of a coincidence than anything else that led to them both being locked in a storage closet while cleaning out the Order's headquarters. She had been in there to start with, trying desperately to reach a box on the top shelf full of god-knows-what. She didn't particularly want to go and get a chair, as that would mean trekking down to the dining room, and had left her wand downstairs so it wouldn't get in the way. A lot of wizards tended to use magic for every little thing, but after the draining of her magic during the last battle, she had tended to stay away from using it unnecessarily. Stupid, she supposed, but having been brought up in the Weasley family she was used to doing things the hard way and so didn't mind.

She was straining, up on her toes, stretching every muscle as far as possible and she was almost there, just a little farther and she would-

The door opened behind her suddenly, and she jerked around in surprise, having thought she was alone in this section - the others were cleaning downstairs, while she had been doing the attic. Standing there, framed in the light streaming in from the windows in the hall outside, was the unknowing object of her fascination for so many years.

He looked surprised when she said his name, though why she didn't know - even though they hadn't really known each other, everyone knew his name.

“Yeah - Ginny, isn't it?” His voice, as always, was deep and rough, reverberating at a pitch that sung up and down her spine.

“Yes.” Her voice shook a little, betraying some emotion - she hoped he took it as surprise.

She barely registered what he was saying, but garnered enough to understand that he was looking for a broom to finish off the room he was currently clearing out. Gesturing around the room, she stated the rather obvious fact that there were no brooms in this bare little room. Hoping she didn't look as shaky as she felt, she watched him turn to leave and spun around to grab the box so she could get out of here and recover. But still, she couldn't reach it.

Suddenly, she felt a strong body pressed against her back as arms reached up from a much taller frame to grab the offending box with ease. Swallowing nervously, she turned in the cradle of his arms to face him. Drawing the crate from behind her back, he drawled a somewhat sarcastic remark about shortness in a tall world, but she couldn't really hear him through the rushing in her ears. Taking the box from him, dazed from the rush his nearness brought, she watched him move towards the door as before, only to stop in his tracks. Puzzled, she peered around him to see that the door had shut - it must have swung closed while Draco was helping her. He took another step, and grabbed the doorhandle - it rattled when he shook it, but wouldn't turn. Turning towards her, he raised an eyebrow deprecatingly and muttered something about stupid ancient doors that locked at the slightest provocation. She smiled nervously and nodded, wondering what was going to happen now.

As it turned out, nothing much. After ascertaining that there was no other way out of the small room, as he too had left his wand behind, they sat down on the floor and waited for someone to come and find them. After all, the house was full of people - they just had to wait for someone to realise they were missing and come looking. However, the people in question seemed to be taking their sweet time about it and so the two locked in the room began to talk. There was nothing else to do.

They spoke about what they had been doing since Hogwarts, and how the last battle had affected them. Both of them were surprisingly candid, as talking to someone they knew about - in her case, knew rather a lot about - but didn't really know seemed to have a loosening effect on their tongues.

And now, they watched each other.

They explored each other's childhoods, their first days at Hogwarts, their favourite foods and their worst memories. Draco spoke about the manor and what it was like being raised by an army of house-elves, while Ginny brought out boisterous memories of growing up the youngest, surrounded by love. Most embarrassing moments were aired, and a small game of `Truth or Truth' began. By the time Harry came, opening the door to blind them with sunlight, a rather unusual thing had occurred. Sprawled on the floor, exploring every topic known to man, Draco and Ginny had become friends. Tentative ones, to be sure, but it was a beginning.

It was a rather strange feeling for her, but a nice one. As they left the house, plans were made to meet for lunch later that week and she turned to go to her small flat, and he to his rather lavish apartment. A new friendship had begun.

Of course, the story of their lives together didn't end at that. How could it, when she was still so hopelessly in love with him?

They continued forging a friendship, meeting for meals, going to movies, giving relationship advice (not that Ginny had any such relationships). They continued to talk, about every topic under the sun, and eventually they were sure that they knew everything about each other that there was to know.

But he never discovered that she was in love with him. That was a secret she kept tightly guarded, never letting down her defences. Never did she give him any clue as to her feelings. Because she was a sensible woman, and there was no hope for her with Draco.

He was still a Quidditch player, and a very good one at that. He was still the most beautiful man she had ever laid eyes upon. He still slept with the most gorgeous people in Britain, if not the world. And still she watched him. Nothing had really changed, except that she was now privy to his most private thoughts and feelings. She knew when he started laying off alcohol because he was tired of the party scene; just as she knew when he dived into even more relationships to get the solace he used to get from drink.

She was his friend, but never his lover. Because, at least in her eyes, she was not only sensible, but plain. There was no other word for it. She looked in the mirror as little as possible, because she knew what she would see. A short, rather homely looking woman who was a far cry from the ravishing beauties - male and female - that Draco regularly escorted into his bed. Curling red hair, restrained in a ponytail because it had a tendency to frizz, reached down to her waist, and was a constant source of annoyance to her. On the rare occasion when she could get it to lie flat through various charms, she felt her looks improved considerably, but always it sprung back into unruliness. Eventually, she just left it alone because it wasn't worth the bother. Brown eyes (the colour of mud, she thought) were fringed with ginger lashes, and below them was a pert nose smattered with a myriad of freckles (another hated feature). A rather average mouth, coupled with a decidedly non-pointed chin (she thought it was more than slightly weak) mangled with all her other features to produce a face that she considered to be very ordinary. Add that onto a body that was softness and curves rather than elegance and sophistication, and you had Ginny Weasley. A rather poor specimen, she thought. Certainly not someone who could ever attract Draco's attention - he went for sleek, cool beauties that could be a match for him. That was something she would never be.

So she contented herself with being a friend. With hearing the stories, rather than being there to feel them. With looking at pictures rather than being in them. And, for a time, she was content. Until the day he proposed to her.

Well, it was more of a business arrangement than a proposal of marriage. There was no candlelit dinner, no flowers, and no proclamations of love. It would be convenient, he explained as she sat there in a sort of dazed stupor. He needed a steady wife at home to hold off the press, who had taken to hounding him with a terrifying determination. If he was married, he would have a cover for whatever he got up to - he could live a normal life again, without the intrusiveness of the press. And she needed someone to support her, both financially and emotionally. For it was true that she wasn't making much money as a junior healer, and was putting in longer and longer hours in attempts to make ends meet so she could stay in the city she loved. She needed someone, he argued, to make sure that she ate and slept while providing backup financial support should she need it to be able to live where she wanted. Besides, they were friends who spent so much time in each other's company already that it would make no difference, really.

Her heart broke just a little more with every word that he spoke. How could she explain that being married would make all the difference in the world? It was one thing to be friends and know that she could never have him - it was another matter entirely to be joined with him before both God and the law, to live with him constantly, to know that under normal circumstances she would be able to have her husband - and still not be able to touch him. It would be torture. And yet - his arguments made sense. And surely, it would be better to be married to him and being able to see him all the time than to have to move away and see him hardly at all? Surely.

So she agreed, and they sat down to figure out some terms. Because, of course, it was a marriage born purely of convenience and therefore it would not progress as a `normal' one would. Firstly, he said, there should be an agreement not to sleep with each other. Of course, he commented with a little laugh, this shouldn't be especially hard (she shattered just a little more) but he thought it was best to have it set out anyway. She agreed - what other choice did she have? So then, there would be no children. Assets would be evenly divided - she fought this one, because she would be bringing so little to the union and he so much, but he wouldn't budge and, eventually, she agreed. No one apart from themselves would know of their arrangement, for it was necessary for the press to believe it was genuine - and besides, she was certain her family wouldn't approve. So to the outside world, they were to be the happy couple that were so very much in love. She was the one who suggested the last stipulation, as he was about to get up from the table. If, at any time, one of them fell in love with someone else, or wanted to leave the marriage for any reason, they must be allowed to. No arguments. Of course, she was not expecting to fall in love with anyone seeing as the one who currently had her heart was standing right in from of her, but she didn't want him to be trapped in an unhappy marriage if he found someone else. That, she couldn't stand.

He agreed, and leaned forward to kiss her on the forehead to seal the arrangement. His nearness did strange things to her breath, and she was almost gasping by the time his soft lips left her skin. Aching all over, she scrambled towards the door, calling over her shoulder that she was late for work. He caught her just before she left, proposing lunch the next day to go over wedding plans. Agreeing hastily, anything to get out of there before she burst out sobbing in front of him, she jerked her arm from his grip and dashed out the door before apparating, leaving behind a rather puzzled Draco Malfoy.

Pretend to be a happily in love couple, about to get married. Piece of cake. Yeah, right.

o-o-o

Wow, this was only going to be a one-shot, but I've decided to split it into a couple of chapters because it ended up being a lot longer than I thought. Who would have guessed it? (grins) Do drop us a line :)

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2. Planning

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author's Note: Ha, well here we have Chapter Two! This chapter goes in a bit of a different direction than the last one - honestly, I can't predict how this story is going to happen! This chapter ended up completely different to what I intended!

o-o-o

She walked into the cafÃ© they had become regular patrons of, blinking as the sun shone into eyes still sore from the crying jag she had succumbed to the night before when his proposition had completely sunk in. It wasn't anything big, she kept telling herself, just a convenient arrangement between friends that would benefit them both.

But it still made her chest hurt and her eyes ache. And so she had given into the urge to let it out, hoping that it would get it over with for once and for all so she could meet Draco calmly when they got together to plan the wedding.

The wedding. Just thinking about it brought another slice across her heart, so she pushed the thought aside and focussed on the tall blonde man standing to greet her as she moved over to their usual table. Forcing a smile, she managed to stumble over pleasantries and gave her usual order to the overly cheerful waitress. Turning back to Draco, she felt the familiar catch in her breath that came just from being near him.

Blinking, trying to shake the errant thoughts blurring her vision, she focussed on what he was saying - wedding arrangements? Right. That was what they were here for, after all.

She listened, contributing little, as he outlined all the arrangements that would have to be made. She had never realised how much there was to planning a wedding. But she would have to do it, because that's what happily in love brides did. They obsessed over flowers and dresses and hen's nights and… and she thought she was going to be sick.

Her head went down on the table as she took deep breaths, trying to rid the shaking that had suddenly come upon her. Vaguely, she realised that Draco had risen from his chair and was currently crouched beside her, rubbing her back gently. Deep breaths… she lifted her head and turned to look at him. He was so close, only inches away - her breath hitched again. Concentrating with the ease that came from long practice of hiding her feelings from him, she answered his question that yes, she was fine - it was just a lot to take in at once.

Looking worriedly at her pale face, he agreed and asked once more if she was sure she was all right. He was still rubbing her back, soothing her. Taking a sip of her water, she straightened up fully and reassured him, waving him back to his seat so they could continue. Brushing off his suggestions that maybe they should take it slowly, she plunged back into the planning of not only the wedding, but also how they were going to convince everyone that they were in love. The sooner they got this over with, the sooner she could go home and try to come to grips with the sudden curve her life had taken.

So, they planned. Digging into scrambled eggs, steak and sausages they discussed timing, and agreed that the ceremony should take place approximately two months from now, in autumn. They didn't settle on an exact date, deciding to leave that until travel and venues could be arranged. It was short notice to plan a wedding, he told her as she sat stunned by the realness of it all, but it was really more practical to get it done with as soon as possible. She nodded dumbly, and signalled the waitress for a hot drink.

Sipping coffee (him) and tea (her), they tossed different venues back and forth. With downcast eyes, she hesitantly asked if it could be conducted outside a church because… well, churches were for real marriages and theirs was just business. Sounding oddly subdued, he acquiesced and suggested the beautiful gardens of Zabini manor, whose family had fought alongside them in the war and would almost certainly be receptive to the idea. The manor had the added attraction of being heavily warded, which was certainly necessary for such a highly publicised event as this. And widely broadcast it must be - after all, there was no point to the marriage (at least for him) if the media didn't know about it.

With the venue settled, they moved onto the next preparation - the engagement party, which they eventually decided should be next week. The sooner the better, after all. And, as much as she balked at the idea, there must be one - not only would it help to advertise the wedding, it would be the perfect opportunity to convince everyone that they really were in love. She hadn't told her family yet, but promised that she would soon - as daunting as the task may be, they would have to know, especially if the engagement party was so soon.

Lastly, just as they were readying to leave, he broached the rather sensitive matter of money and payment. Well, it was sensitive to her but he treated it with true Malfoy style: casually commenting that he would of course pay for everything, using that tone that suggested he would brook no resistance. She cut through that angrily, protesting that it was her wedding as well and she would pay an equal share. He retaliated by saying that he was the one with millions of Galleons sitting in the bank while she was barely scraping through - having resisted, he added reprovingly, all attempts from him to help her out. She rose sharply, pressing her hands onto the table and leaning forward to inform him cuttingly that this was a business arrangement and she would goddamn pay her share.

He stood, angry now, staring down with those eyes that could turn so cold, so quickly. Yes, it was a business arrangement, he said icily, but it was also meant to be practical. As such, he would provide payment. Subdued somewhat by his quiet vehemence, she made one last stand and demanded that she be allowed to pay for everything directly connected with her - dress, shoes, flowers, etc. Looking down into her face, which was flushed with anger, he seemed to cool down somewhat and agreed to her request.

Feeling somewhat stupid in the face of his sudden calm, she glanced around to see that they had become the centre of attention in the small eatery. Blushing, she dug around for money and slapped some notes down on the table, silencing Draco's protest by grabbing his arm and dragging him out into the street.

They walked down the busy sidewalk, their silence morphing from frigid to uncomfortable, and finally to companionable. They strolled past shops, and fountains, occasionally slowing to look in a window or toss some money into the open case of a busker. Eventually, they reached a park and sat on a wooden bench under an old oak that must have been growing there for centuries. She was the first to break the silence, murmuring his name.

“Yeah?” he turned to look at her squarely, raising one eyebrow in elegant enquiry.

She raised worried eyes to his, posing the question that had been haunting her thoughts ever since he had suggested this crazy idea. “How the hell are we going to do this?”

“Do what?” He danced around her question, not knowing exactly what to say.

Sighing, she spelled out what she meant, even though she knew perfectly well that he knew. “How are we going to convince everyone that we're in love?” He stood and turned away, frowning slightly.

She plunged on, “I mean, you're not in love with me! That kind of thing shows, you know. And in addition, we are the most unlikely match I can think of! You're…” How could she put this in words without giving herself away? “You're famous, and wealthy and gorgeous to go with it! While I- I'm a plump, plain little healer who no one has ever heard of! I'm nowhere near any of those beauties you-” He whirled, grabbing her arm and pulling her up roughly. Startled, she looked up at him - he looked furious.

“Firstly,” he began in a deadly quiet voice, “I don't ever want to hear you describing yourself that way again. You are so much more than that. You're beautiful-” Shaking her head, she opened her mouth to protest but he shook her, surprising her into silence. “You are. Maybe not in the conventional stick-thin, sultry-eyed way, but what you have inside you… it's unmatched by any superficial beauty I've ever met. Secondly, you had better stop comparing yourself to the people I sleep with as of right now.”

Breaking free, she turned away so he wouldn't see the tears brimming in her eyes. “I- I know I can't match up to them - like I said, I'm just-“ strong arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her back against him. Dropping his head onto her shoulder, he sighed, the hot gust of breath causing her skin to tingle.

“Don't.” He sounded quieter now, sadder. “You've got it all twisted. You are more, so much more, than anyone I have ever been with. There's more to a person than what they look like, or how good they are in bed. Sometimes, people have something in them - something so intense, just being around them makes you want to be a better person. Harry had it, and it shone out for everyone to see and he used it to save the world.”

“Not much at all, that,” she muttered on a half-sob, half-laugh.

Amused, he smiled against her neck. “No, not at all. But, Gin, you have it too. You don't use it for anything so dramatic as fighting - in fact, most people don't even notice it in you. You fade into the shadows, unnoticed and unrecognised - but to those that you touch, you pass on something precious.”

She was shaking her head, trying to protest again - she wasn't like that! He had some sort of idealised picture of her, something that she wasn't! She wasn't beautiful, or special, or anything really. But he stopped her again, spinning her so he could look her in the eye.

“Why do you think you are such a good healer, even though you're still a Junior? Why do you think they keep asking you to take more shifts? Because you have an understanding, an empathy with your patients - you genuinely care about them, even if you see them for only 5 minutes. You dispense love like a rich man gives coins - generously and unconditionally, never asking for recognition. And that, Gin, whether you realise it or not, is something that makes you exquisite.”

Finishing his tirade, he leant down and rested his forehead on hers. She stood still, stunned by what he had said. Is that how she appeared to him? Did she really have that affect on others? If so… then maybe she was doing something worthwhile with her life after all. Smiling slightly, she took his arm and they continued walking through the park.

While strolling through a shadowy part of the gardens, she mentioned that they still hadn't solved the problem of how to convince people that they were in love - when he obviously wasn't. His brow furrowed in thought, before he pointed out that she wasn't in love either so she would have the same problem. Nodding, her eyes averted so he wouldn't read the truth in them, she asked if he had any ideas about what they could do. Of course, he didn't know that whatever they did would be more than an act to her - it would be real. She wouldn't have any trouble at all pretending to be in love with him - the trick would be keeping him from realising that the feeling was real.

After walking for a few more minutes, he turned to her and stated that he thought they were both reasonably good actors, and should be able to convince most people with handholding and loving gazes. But for the doubters, he continued, the most effective way to convince them would be to simply kiss.

She stumbled to a halt. Kiss? Right, kiss. Of course. Why hadn't she thought of that? Well, probably because she tended to avoid thinking of things like that which could never happen, to avoid the bands around her heart from tightening any further. However, it seemed that this, at least, was going to come true. Of course, it would be hardly more than a peck - platonic friends didn't go around indulging in hot, steamy kisses. But still… Draco kissing her… her kissing him back… oh God, how was she going to survive this? Getting through the kiss without him realising her feelings would be hard enough - but how was she going to look him in the eye afterwards without giving herself away?

Blinking up at him, she realised that he had been speaking to her, and was now looking at her with one eyebrow raised in question.

“What?” she asked weakly.

He smirked, before repeating that he thought it was better to practice before the engagement party, when so many people would be watching their every move. Panicking just a little more, she nodded her agreement. Yes, practicing would be smart. When did he think they should do it? His smirk intensified.

“How about now?”

She froze.

He looked at her strangely, and continued, “I know you don't really want to, with us being just friends and all, but I really think it would be wise thing to do. After all, we do want it to be convincing.”

She nodded dumbly. He thought she didn't want to? How oblivious could one man be? When he kissed her, she'd - oh God… did he say now? Right now?

“Sure.” Her mouth formed the agreement, but she was still dazed by the suddenness of it all.

His smirk faded a little, and he moved closer, backing her up under a tree. He reached out and clasped his hands loosely around her waist, bringing her up against him lightly. The brush of his chest against her breasts sent shockwaves through her, and she shivered.

“Cold?” His voice rumbled along her nerves, tightening them even more.

“No.”

He leant down, his silver-blonde hair falling free to brush her upturned face. Hot breath feathered along her skin, and her eyes closed involuntarily while she savoured the delicious feelings shivering through her. Firm, hot lips brushed hers - once, and once again before settling. Shocks sparked along her veins and the roaring in her ears intensified. His lips moved gently, and her hand slid up to tangle in his hair, gripping the soft strands tightly. His head canted to a different angle, and his tongue swept along the seam of her lips.

And with that, the kiss changed into something much, much more. His hands tightened around her waist, pulling her more firmly against him. One slid up into her hair, gripping to tilt her head to a better angle. Never before… never had she felt like this. Never had she thought it was possible. Her mouth opened under his insistent one, and she felt herself being moved backwards until the rough bark of the tree was at her back. His tongue swept inside her mouth and, of its own accord, hers came forth to tangle with it. He growled into her mouth, a rough, primal sound, and renewed his assault - lifting her up against him, he rocked his hips into hers, causing a mewling sound to escape her mouth. Her head fell back against the tree, and his hot mouth trailed down her neck to linger at her pulse, creating a new set of shock waves to whip through her veins. She tugged at his hair, impatient for his mouth, and he dragged his lips back up the delicate line of her throat before crashing back down on hers with renewed fervour. One leg skimmed up his hip, and he grabbed it, pulling her in - she writhed against him, trying to get closer, trying to grab more of this madness that had overtaken them both.

A dog barked in the distance, jolting them.

He tore his mouth away, breathing heavily. Resting his forehead on hers, he swore quietly. Her vision still blurry, she felt him untangle himself from her and step away, shakily.

“That was… a mistake.” He raked a hand through his hair, agitated.

A mistake? Yes, of course it was. God, how could she have been so stupid? Now he would know exactly how she felt, and would be put in the position of letting her down gently. After all, it's not like he felt the same way - he probably hadn't even enjoyed the kiss! He was just practicing, after all, and she- she had wrapped herself around him like a starving animal presented with food. She had to say something - anything to stop him from telling her that he didn't feel the same way. Maybe it was true, but she couldn't handle hearing it right now.

“Yes… yes, it was. I'm sorry.” The words she choked out were strained.

“You're…? No, no, it's my fault. I let it get out of hand.” He turned to look at her, his face strained. “Maybe… maybe we should forget it, and just leave practicing until when we actually have to do it.”

“Yes, yes - good idea.” Her throat hurt, and the words were raspy. Forget about it. A mistake. Right. Her world spun around her, dizzying. She had to get out of there.

Stumbling over excuses, she turned to leave - and this time, he made no attempt to stop her. She only made it a few steps before the first tear fell, tracking its way down her cheek. Digging for her wand, she lurched into a run, rounded the corner - and apparated to her flat, where she collapsed on her couch, body heaving with the force of her sobs.

He stood in the park, staring after her with a stunned look in his eyes.

o-o-o

Well, that's it! Let me know what you think *smiles in encouragement of niceness*

Cheers!

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3. The Party

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author's Note: Tell me what you think!

Cheers! :D

o-o-o

The next time she saw him was when she walked into her engagement party, and she almost turned and walked right back out again. They'd been avoiding each other for the better part of a week - and she'd found it torture. She had wondered if not seeing him was worse than an actual confrontation, as his absent presence did nothing to halt the looped replay of those moments in the park. But as soon as she stepped through the door, saw him mingling with guests and shining in the way that only he could, she felt like she'd taken a blow to her stomach that sucked all her breath out - and knew that she would have been far wiser to stay away.

And perhaps she would have gotten away with no further harm done, if it wasn't for her mother and that blasted sixth sense that struck as soon as one of the Weasley children was within a 10-kilometer radius. Just as she turned to step back into the peaceful night, a hand grabbed her arm, pulled her into a motherly hug and tugged her into the crowd to talk to what seemed to be a million people at once. She went along, slightly weak from the combination of having seen Draco again and the relief that her family was taking her engagement so well.

Of course, she'd always been fairly certain that her mother would be fine with this new development - the famed Mrs Weasley had accepted Draco first as Harry's boyfriend (although she was more than slightly relieved when they broke up), and then as a valuable fighter for their side, and lastly as Ginny's friend. Add in the delight that her daughter, the one child that she'd despaired of ever getting married, was engaged to him - and Molly Weasley couldn't have been happier! Mr Weasley had likewise put aside his dislike of the Malfoy family long ago, and accepted Draco as his son-to-be happily.

Of course, not all of her family was taking it so well - while Bill and Charlie were fine with Draco, having never been subjected to him during his asshole Slytherin days, Fred, George and Ron were not accepting the situation so calmly. While they acknowledged that Draco had been an asset to their side during the war, had accepted him through Harry, and had upgraded him in their minds from `mortal enemy' to `okay ally', accepting him as family, through their Ginny, was quite another matter. The twins had come around grudgingly by the time of the party (although she suspected that it had taken a few lashes of Mrs Weasley's temper to achieve this), and had even promised not to play any pranks on Draco. Ron, on the other hand, was still sulking around and glowering at anyone who mentioned `that insufferable bastard' in relation to Ginny. He had come to the party, at the request of Ginny (and a good deal of pressure from Harry and Hermione), but wasn't happy about the newest development. But she was sure that she could bring him around, although it might take a few weeks for him to cool off.

She looked at Ron, her favourite brother, standing over by the punch bowel and realised that if looks could kill, Draco would be keeling over in a pool of blood. So, maybe it would take a bit longer.

Percy was absent, Ginny noticed with a sense of disappointment, but she hadn't really expected anything different. It had been many years since that terrible fight had caused the rift between him and the rest of the Weasley's, and the gap still hadn't been bridged. He was living, by all reports happily, with his wife Penelope and their two beautiful sons in London, having quit the Ministry to work in his wife's family company. Contrary to many expectations, he hadn't joined the Dark side in the war, but neither had he rejoined the Light - remaining neutral for his own unfathomable reasons, he'd managed to keep his family unharmed. Ginny had sent him an invitation to both the engagement party and wedding, hoping that the rift might finally be bridged, but it seemed like this was not to be.

Pushing aside wistful thoughts, she circled the room with her mother, smiling and greeting with what she hoped was a radiant bride-to-be glow, studiously avoiding Draco. This was made easier by the fact that he seemed quite willing to avoid her as well - ignoring the jab this brought to her chest, she thought happy thoughts and continued to mingle with her guests. The entire party had been organized through the joint efforts of Molly and Narcissa, who had formed an unlikely bond through the mutual desire to make this wedding perfect for their children. The room was beautifully decorated, with exquisite food laid out and a well-known band playing tastefully in the background. Forcing a smile that became more strained as the night wore on, she circulated, talking to everyone, amazed that no one picked up on the ever-growing tension present in her every movement and word. People, it seemed, only saw what they wanted to, and what they wanted to see was a radiant, cheerful, laughing bride-to-be that was the picture of happiness. Her nerves became increasingly taut as the minutes passed - people continually congratulated her, wished her well, complimented her, gave gifts, joked, smiled laughed huggedkissednudged- her world swirled around her in a kaleidoscope of colours, narrowing into blackness.

A large palm brushed down her back before sliding around her waist to pull her back against a hard chest. Pulled back from the edge of oblivion, she leaned against that solid wall behind her, slowing her breathing while vaguely registering Draco's deep voice rumbling through her. Making their excuses, he tugged her away from the crowd into a dark room off to the side before lowering her onto a chair, instructing her to breathe.

After a few minutes, her senses had returned fully, and she was aware of the chair edge pushing into her thighs, the darkness pressing into her eyes, soothing them, and the man standing by the window who had pulled her in. She took a deep breath, and decided that at the moment, she didn't feel up to the confrontation that she knew would emerge if they spoke. The analysing of what had occurred the other day, the stumbling explanations that she just didn't want to hear. Some other time perhaps, but not now. So she stood, keeping her eyes lowered, and silently headed towards the door. Before she could reach for the handle, however, he stopped her with a single word.

“Wait.”

Unwillingly, she turned, as if pulled by an invisible string towards him. He stepped closer, but maintained a safe distance from her as if he was wary of sparking something off between them. Reaching out, he cupped her chin and gently forced her to look at him.

“Are you okay?”

She nodded dumbly, eyes darting towards the door. Being this close to him was bliss, but spiked with shards of agony for what could never be. What she wanted was to get away - but because the alternative to being here was going back to the party, she stayed.

His voice rumbled through her again, setting off mini explosions in her blood. “I was watching you out there - you kept getting paler and paler, until you looked like you were going to faint.” He grabbed her here, shaking a little. “What's wrong? Are you sick? I can see you're not happy, or even passably all right.” His gaze scanned her face, worry radiating from him. “Tell me, damn it.”

His eyes sparked with silver fire as his temper simmered close to the surface. He didn't like her hurting, goddamn it, and wanted to get to the bottom of this so Ginny could go back to being her normal self. The memory of the kiss they'd shared the other day tugged at his mind, but he brushed it to one side. Just because he'd been completely blindsided by the passion sparked between them didn't mean she'd felt anything. She'd made it clear from the start that this was an arrangement between friends, just the way they'd planned it, and he wasn't going to do anything to mess that up. The best way to deal with the kiss was to ignore it, he'd decided through the night afterwards. He'd tossed and turned through it, unable to sleep because every time he shut his eyes memories flashed across his eyelids of how her lips had tasted, how her hair had wrapped around his hands, how her body had fitted to his perfectly-

He was going insane. Completely and utterly bonkers. Turning his attention back to the matter at hand, he saw Ginny's eyes glistening up at him as she tried to blunder her way out of admitting what was causing the pain he saw emanating from her. He wasn't buying any of her excuses for a second, of course. He'd told her part of the truth when he said he'd been watching her. The real story would have included the words `obsessing' `like' and `crazy'. He'd known the instant she'd stepped into the room, just as he'd felt her gaze land on him like a blow to the solar plexus. He'd composed his features to reveal nothing, of course - his father's lessons had paid off after all - but he'd sensed her every movement as she circled through the crowd. And because of this, he'd noticed when her smile became more forced than real, and when the colour began to drain from her face until she was sheet-white. In an effort to remain composed, he'd deliberately stayed on the other side of the room, but when she'd begun to sway on her feet, looking as if her world was collapsing inwards, he cut away from his conversation and moved to get her out of there.

As far as he could tell, no one else had any inkling of the real story behind the `blissful engagement' - while he'd noticed Ginny's strain, and certainly knew of his own, everyone else seemed content to float along seeing nothing out of the ordinary. To be fair, the only reason he noticed was because when it came to her, he noticed everything.

Of course, he reasoned, any good friend would do the same.

He dragged himself out of her eyes with an effort, but found himself drawn to her lips that beckoned so softly. Hoarse, he cleared his throat and was about to continue in his line of questioning, when a head popped around the door.

Harry bloody Potter. He'd always had the worst sense of timing Draco had ever seen, but this particular misjudgement almost got him hexed into the middle of next week. Only a deep (very deep, hidden and buried) affection that Draco still held for the prat saved him. Baring his teeth in a parody of a smile, he asked the idiot (rather civilly, he thought) if he would mind leaving them for a few minutes (or hours). Grinning inanely, Harry answered - with far too much cheer, in Draco's opinion - that everyone was looking for the happy couple so the toasts could begin.

Gritting his teeth, he nodded curtly and slid his arm around Ginny's waist to lead her out so they could fulfil their duties as the `happy couple', as Potter had put it. He refused to look in her eyes, knowing that if he did he'd be pulled back into her softness, and determinedly headed back into the melee.

She blinked as they emerged into the light and the noise, where everyone around them burst into applause as soon as they were sighted. From the wolf-whistles and good-natured laughter directed towards them, she gathered that it was generally believed that they'd suck off to be alone for a moment of snogging. Ha, she wished. Apart from a small interrogation, and glaring at her in silence for a while, he'd shown no reaction to their kiss in the park. He hadn't even mentioned it. Well, she decided as she was tugged towards the stage set up at the front, if he wanted to pretend it had never happened then that was what they would do. After all, hadn't she already decided that it was best to ignore it? Hadn't she played the moments in the park over and over in her head and repeatedly come to the same conclusion - while she felt as if she'd taken a blow to the head with a blunt instrument whenever Draco came near, he suffered from no such affliction. They were friends, and she was damned if she was going to muck it up because of some rogue hormones.

They came to a stop in the middle of the stage and stood, arms around each other, beaming out at the crowd - the epitome of love, she thought bitterly. Her father stepped forwards to lead the toasts, on behalf of both families.

He spoke of children, of skinned knees, first days of school and unconditional love. Of growing up - the uncertainty, the pain, and the glory that came as part and parcel of becoming an adult. Of trials and triumphs, family, friends - and love. And, lastly, of letting a child go so they can be their own person, of passing the responsibility and caring onto a new generation. He turned and looked at them, tears glistening in his eyes as he bid them to look after each other, to cherish, to support - and to love, into eternity.

“To Draco and Ginny.”

The resounding cheer echoed around the room, as the people who were so dear to both of them repeated the pledge of love and joy. Her eyes misted over at the sheer beauty of the moment, and turning to look at Draco, she saw a similar affliction had taken over him.

He smiled down at her, any irritations from before forgotten, as the room fell silent around them. Dimly, she realised that everyone was waiting for them to consummate this time-honoured ritual by sharing a kiss, but was too numbed by the pleasure seeping through her veins to do anything about it. Slowly, his face drew closer until his lips brushed hers in a feather light caress.

Closing her eyes, she savoured the poignancy of the moment. Maybe he didn't love her, maybe they would remain nothing more than friends for the rest of their lives. But this - this, she had. This one moment in time where his lips moved gently over hers, his light stubble rasping and his hand burning hot through the back of her dress. This… this was heaven.

After a moment, applause rang through the room, cueing a separation of mouths. Shaken, they drew away, eyes skittering, hands fluttering. Slipping his arm around her once more, they turned to laugh with their audience before slipping back into the crowd to bid guests farewell.

Later, after the last guest had departed, she stepped over a streamer that had come down from the roof to grab some cake from the refreshment table. In all the `excitement' she hadn't had a chance to eat anything, and was starving. A glass of punch was pressed into her hand, and she looked up to see Draco grinning down at her.

“Hungry?” he enquired, eyes sparking with amusement.

She grinned, swallowed her cake and gulped some punch before answering. “Ravenous. You?”

He held up a slice of pie and glass of punch that he'd nabbed for himself, and they shared a smile. This was how their friendship was supposed to be - easy and relaxed, with none of the strain that had been present ever since that day he'd proposed. There was still an underlying tension present, of course, humming beneath the surface, but this was more normal than it had been for a long while. This wedding was putting strain on their friendship, but she wasn't going to back out of if now - they would find some way to make it work. They had to.

Finishing off their respective snacks, they wove through the caterers and cleaners who were packing up the splendour, to make their way out the door into the calm night. Declining his offer to take her home, she produced her wand and made ready to apparate back to her flat. Hesitating, she turned back to him and leaned up to kiss him on the cheek, like she used to before this whole mess started, before whispering goodnight and apparating home.

He stood, a half-smile tugging at his lips, raising a hand to his cheek. Then he, too, took out his wand and apparated to his home. No need to follow through on anything else right now - there was time enough to talk things over later.

o-o-o

So, did you all like this instalment? Let me know… :)

Cheers,

Jenny :D

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4. The Wedding

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author's Note: Enjoy, and please tell me what you think!

o-o-o

As it happened, though, there wasn't. Not enough time to talk, not enough time to plan - hell, there was barely enough time to breathe. The weeks leading up to the wedding passed in a blur - fittings, shopping, meetings with family and caterers… and a distinct lack of contact between the soon-to-be newlyweds. Draco had no idea whether they were subconsciously avoiding each other or if fate just had a sardonic sense of humour, but as time marched resolutely on, he realised that absolutely nothing was going to be resolved until the entire fiasco was over.

So he resigned himself to simply getting through the days, one at a time, until everything had settled down again and he could get back to his nice, normal, Ginny-filled life. Not that he was desperate for her or anything, he reassured himself with increasing regularity. The fact that he found himself drinking alone in a corner at his bachelor party, not the slightest bit interested in the token stripper because she didn't have red hair and was far too tall and skinny, meant nothing. The way his head would whip around whenever a trace of red caught his eye in a crowd, was normal, and the way his heart missed a beat whenever he heard a husky feminine chuckle was, of course, the natural reaction of a friend. And the dreams that kept him up at night - yielding lips, silky hair and an increasing amount of soft, soft skin - were clearly a sign that he was going batty because friends didn't think about friends like that.

The truth was, he missed her like crazy and couldn't wait for this all to be over so he could just be with her. That's all he wanted - it was all he'd wanted for years.

o-o-o

She leant her head against the cool window, staring out at the cloudy sky while attempting to slow her shallow gasps for air. Focussing on a single raindrop tracking its way down the glass, winding its way against the buffeting wind, she felt her face cool from a desperate flush and turned back to the woman waiting behind her.

If there was one thing she couldn't deal with right now, it was her mother. God knows she loved her dearly, but happy gushing had no place with her today. She needed time. Space. Air.

Draco.

At this last thought, her lips quivered, threatening to fall from the plastic smile she'd been wearing for the past month. No. Not here - she couldn't. Brides were radiant. Lovely. Happy. She was none of the above, but it seemed that this didn't matter now anymore than it had when they'd first put this crazy plan into action. She'd made a deal, Ginny reminded herself - she had made her decision. And she was going to go through with it. She had no choice - and, if she was completely honest with herself, she didn't want one. Having a choice meant questioning her decisions, her motives, and the rightness of it all.

Turning, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror stretching all along one wall of the spacious room. Her breath gushed out in one sharp burst. That glittering woman there - that was who she was. Who would walk down the aisle, knowing that the white she was wearing was cruelly appropriate - and that in 30 years nothing would have changed. Who would walk towards the man she would spend the rest of her life with. A man she loved so desperately it scared her. A man who thought of her as a friend. Draco.

Draco. That was why she was doing this. Because, when all was said and done, she loved him. Wanted him. And if this was the only way she could have him - as a friend, a convenient partner - then she would take it, gladly.

Smiling a little, she turned back to her mother and assured her that she was fine, just afflicted by a small case of `bridal jitters'. Chuckling knowingly, the plump redheaded woman patted her cheek and told her that there was absolutely no reason for that.

“You are the envy of all other women here today. You're about to marry a gorgeous, talented man who will spend the rest of his life making you happy. Who loves you more than his next breath. Who is out there waiting for you.”

Grinning wryly, Ginny doffed her hat to Draco's superior acting skills. He'd obviously done a brilliant job convincing everyone he loved her - she could only hope she'd been as good at keeping her feelings from him.

Organ notes drifted through the wind, signalling that it was time. She grabbed her mother in an impulsive hug, doing her best to keep her panic from showing. After receiving an equally fierce squeeze in return, she found herself being propelled down the stairs to the room where the rest of her wedding party waited. She took deep breaths, trying to stay calm. She could do this. She'd survived dress fittings, catering meetings, nosy journalists - and not seeing Draco for weeks. After that, this was nothing.

But that didn't stop the pounding of her heart or the dampness of her palms. And it did nothing to alleviate the painful tugging in her chest.

Barely even hearing the gushing of her bridesmaids or the rough note of praise in her father's voice, she shut her eyes and tried to remember how to breathe. After the compliments and excited chatter had slowed, an attendant poked his head through the door to find out if all was well. Nodding that she was ready, Ginny watched numbly as the huge oak doors swung open to admit her bridesmaids into the sheltered forest clearing where the ceremony would take place. Aware that all other feelings had been eclipsed by a sudden, all-consuming terror, she barely felt her father's tugging at her arm. Turning dazedly, she realised that he was gesturing towards the door. It was time to go. Drawing in a steady breath, she turned determinedly towards what was supposed to be the happiest day of her life. This would work.

It had to.

o-o-o

He was standing with his back to the horde who had turned up to the wedding. He wasn't interested in them - wasn't interested in the caterer blathering in his ear, wasn't interested in his mother's fluttering with the guests, and definitely wasn't interested in Zabini's annoying smirk. Bloody arrogant idiot - somehow, he always managed to convey that he knew a lot more than Draco would have liked. Ignoring his best man, Draco concentrated on convincing himself that this was real, but it felt so far removed from him. Was he really about to marry Ginny, his best friend - that beautiful, tiny woman who was single-handedly responsible for Draco's uneasiness and lack of sleep for the past few months? A sliver of worry tried to creep up the back of his throat, but he ruthlessly wrestled it back down. This was the right thing to do. There was no backing out now. Suddenly, blood rushed hot through his veins as he heard the crowd rise behind him and turned to see her coming towards him.

He drew in a slow breath, feeling like his legs had been knocked from under him. This was real, so real - but she was almost like a stranger coming towards him, pale perfection with none of her beautiful, raw emotions showing. Sudden doubts assailed him - was this really the right thing to do? So many things could go wrong… so many hearts and lives crushed…

Then she looked up and met his eyes and he fell into their warm softness, sucking in a little from the wave of heat. And suddenly he felt like singing, shouting for joy because it was Ginny coming towards him, not a stranger after all - just Ginny, looking wonderful and beautiful and terrified. The joy bubbled out, spreading into a warm smile as he stepped forward and took her tiny hand in his, taking her in - and falling just a little bit more.

Looking up into his eyes, seeing their warmth and joy smiling down at her, she felt the rest of the world slide away until it was just the two of them. But that was really all they needed, so she smiled back and stepped up to the priest who would join them as one, now and forever.

The ceremony passed in a blur, with words leaping out occasionally to bring a rush of joy and panic to her throat and pounding heart. Honour. Cherish. Peace. Through all life. Love.

Vaguely, she registered him vowing his heart and his life to her in that low, rough voice of his that never failed to set off sparks up her spine. And she smiled up at him as hers rang out clearly.

Then it was done. They were husband and wife - before God, the law, and all those who they loved. Looking up into his silvery eyes, she saw them darken as his head dipped towards hers for the traditional kiss. And as she lifted her mouth up to receive his, she let the last of her nagging fears slip away. They were one now. She heard cheering in the distance, and then his mouth slanted across her as the kiss deepened and she couldn't think anymore.

Eventually, they broke apart, breathing raggedly, grinning more happily than any couple married for pure convenience had any right to. But somehow, feeling Draco's rough hand slide down to rest on her waist, guiding her through the beaming audience, she couldn't bring herself to care. For a while, she would just sit back and watch, and let things sort themselves out. There would be plenty of time to deal with the leftovers later.

So she sat as if in a glorious dream all through the reception - she ate heartily, and accepted good wishes happily from all guests, whether she knew them or not. She watched Draco play his part of the loving bridegroom, and pretended for a while that it was real instead of a farce to be broken by morning. She danced with anyone who asked, happily whirling around the floor and accepting compliments as if they were paid to her every day. And she watched him watching her, and smiled at the faint irony - they truly had come full circle, so perhaps it was only right that he sat to the side observing, as she had done all those years ago.

Projecting radiance as well as she knew how, Ginny made her way over to the refreshment table where the shadows enveloped her and she could finally stop smiling. The tension of the day caught up with her, and she sagged a little against the wall, glad that the guests were no longer interested in her - she had danced enough, smiled enough, so was now superfluous. Gazing out across the dance floor, she smiled a little at the amazing diversity present in such a small space. The Minister for Magic was waltzing stiffly with a high-society dame around the edges, while Blaise was sweeping Luna Lovegood into a dramatic dance that had girls sighing all around the floor. Ron was swaying with some unnamed girl in the centre, looking resigned, and her parents… Her breath caught and sudden tears rose up, threatening to choke her. They had always been simply Mum and Dad - sure, she knew that they loved each other, but she'd never thought about any true depth of feeling between them. Until now. They weren't doing anything scandalous or dramatic, simply swaying in time to the music in a far corner - but the way they looked at each other was so loving, so intimate, Ginny turned away feeling like a little child peeping through a window to a magic world. To feel like that - to love like that… was something she'd never do with Draco. Because friends didn't do that.

Battling tears, she looked blindly away and found her gaze trapped by intense silver eyes staring back at her across the room. Feeling too raw to put her practiced mask back on, she considered fleeing but ended up just standing there, watching him make his way towards her.

Winding his way through the dancers, half of whom he didn't know, Draco found himself unable to look away from the woman waiting for him in the shadows. Caught off guard by the depth of raw feeling flittering across her face, he wanted nothing more than to hold her, shield her from whatever was hurting her, and let the rest of the world slip away.

He stepped up to her, unable to resist tracing the curve of her cheek, revelling in the softness of her skin before tucking an escaped curl behind the tiny shell of her ear. Smiling down at her, falling into her incredible warmth, he was barely aware of speaking.

“Come on. You've had enough.”

His rough voice reverberated through her as she nodded, too tired to put up any kind of token resistance. Their part here was done. It was time to go.

She followed him outside, tucked up next to his side like a child being guided home. He took out his wand, enclosing her in his arms as he apparated them away from the continuing festivities to the secluded beachside resort planned for their honeymoon. She stepped out of his embrace, looking around at her home for the next two weeks. There had been no chance of avoiding this - any genuinely married couple would never forsake a honeymoon. However, she hadn't been prepared for the… realness of it all. They were in a small sitting room, which had a few doors leading off into different chambers. She stepped over, twisting a doorhandle to peer inside - and was caught unprepared by the naked longing rushing through her as she stared at the inviting double bed, seeing in her mind's eye a breathless tumble before limbs entwined with passion-

“This can be your room. I'll take the other.”

Right. Good. That's good. Separate rooms was what they had agreed on because they weren't, after all, a genuine couple. And she could have dealt with it, any other night. But right now she felt ripped open, shaky, far too exposed - and she didn't want to be alone tonight. She knew there was no real future for any kind of romance between them, and that wasn't really what she wanted anyway. She just wanted someone to be there. Just tonight. Tomorrow, they could get up and go their separate ways. Could go back to being just friends. But right now, she needed him.

“Could you… do you think that… maybe…”

God, she was stuttering and blushing like a teenager trying to pluck up the courage to ask a boy for a date. Not that there was much difference, she thought cynically. She took a steadying breath and looked up into those incredible eyes that made her go a little crazy every time.

“Could you just - hold me? Just for tonight?”

He looked down at her, feeling like he'd taken a blow to the stomach, and tried to catch his breath. Slowly, he nodded. This was what they both needed, whether they'd admit it openly or not. Comfort. She was offering it, and he needed it desperately. So, for tonight, they could forget that this was a huge mess. They could pretend that this was right and that it was normal for friends to feel this way.

Just for tonight, they could love.

o-o-o

So - drop me a line, ya? Tell me what you thought! Encouragement is always good… will have to start on next chapter soon. Must hop to it… Love yas all, you're wonderful!

Cheers,

Jenny :D

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5. Morning After

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author's Note: Ok - short and sweet this time. I cannot even say how incredibly sorry I am for the gruelling process this has turned out to be. When I first started writing, I swore I would not be one of those annoying authors that took forever to update. But hey, I guess plans don't always work out, huh. So. I am so very, very sorry but there is really nothing I can do about it, so I just hope there are still some readers out there who haven't given up in utter frustration.

Am I happy with this chapter? Some of it yes. Some of it not so much. It is short, and I really wish I had more time to do something else with it. Check it, rewrite it - something. But I am literally leaving for holidays now, and I will not have a chance to do anything else for 2 more months. And as slack as I undoubtedly am, I really didn't want to leave it that long. Also, I have no time to write individual thank-yous, which I am really really not happy about, but - leaving. Now. Not good. So, here it is. Let me know what you think, and please tell me if you think I should rewrite it! If there's anyone still out there, that is. ::smiles hopefully:: I promise I will get around to individual thankyous and some stage, but I have no time at the moment. Thank you so much for your incredible patience, and I am really. Really. Sorry.

o-o-o

She woke and reached for him, still dangling in that delicious realm that lies between sleep and reality, only to find her hand sliding over smooth, cold sheets with no hint of his warmth left to comfort her.

He was gone. Pushing aside a slice of disappointment that really had no business worming its way into her chest, she rolled over and buried her face in the pillow, hiding from the sunlight and all the reality and problems it brought with it. Except the pillows smelt like him, and the stabbing in her chest escalated a little more.

She sat abruptly, pushing the covers aside, and stepped onto the lush carpet, her feet sinking into its softness as she padded across the room to find something to wear. Grabbing the first thing that came to hand, she shoved aside the overwhelming urge to climb back into bed and pull the covers over her head. This was her life now, and it wasn't going to go away. It was up to her to make it work.

Sucking in a determined breath, she straightened her shoulders and pushed open her door, stepping into the sitting room that served as a central hub for all rooms in the suite. Standing still, uncertain where to go, she caught the scent of bacon wafting through the air, bringing with it memories of home-cooked breakfasts and lazy weekends. And suddenly she was smiling, warmth blossoming in her chest, pushing aside the stark coldness that had lodged there since she'd woken up alone. Sure now, she went towards the smell then stopped, her hand resting on the cool doorknob. This was it - the final step towards her new life with Draco. Their first day together as a married couple - the first day of the rest of their lives. But the thought no longer brought a haunting ache to her chest, so she let the smile inside spread across her face and twisted the knob to get to him.

o-o-o

Cheerful was the last word Draco would have used to describe what he was feeling - blind panic, on the other hand, would have been rather appropriate. He had absolutely no idea how to handle this marriage without going insane. If last night were any indication, he wouldn't last more than a week.

He slammed his palm against the cupboard in frustration, but it did nothing to abate the images of Ginny swirling through his head that just wouldn't quit.

She'd been so damn innocent, curled up against him all night - so young and vulnerable. And trusting - god, she gave him so much, but if she knew how much control it had taken for him to keep his hands off her last night she'd run away screaming. Only the knowledge that she trusted him to comfort her as a friend had enabled him to hold onto a thread of sanity instead of diving into the madness she evoked in him and taking her. And god, how he'd wanted to give in - every time she moved, her hair slid across his bare skin and drove him a little more out of his mind. Every brush of skin against skin caused almost unbearable friction, every breath she took pressed her more firmly against him and made him aware of just how soft and warm she was. He'd tried moving away, putting some distance between them, but she just curled tighter around him and held on. Christ, she could drive him out of his mind even in her sleep.

He'd eventually fallen asleep, tossing fitfully for a few hours before waking up with a start, his arms full of soft, warm woman. His thigh had found its way between hers, his arms were curled around her tightly, and his face was buried in all that glorious hair.

He'd looked up at the ceiling and wanted nothing more to love her awake, to see the sleep clearing from those beautiful eyes to be replaced with heat, to make her shiver and cry out his name again and again.

But that wasn't what they'd agreed on, so he'd gotten out of there before the madness could suck him into doing it anyway.

So here he was in the morning - frustrated, irritable, and cooking breakfast for the woman who'd got him like this to start with. Christ, he was a mess.

He heard a muffled sound behind him and whirled, startled, only to come face to face with his tormentor.

“Ginny-” He spoke without any clear idea of what he was going to say, but was cut off by a lash of indignation as he realised where the sounds had come from. Her shoulders shaking, hands over her mouth, eyes sparkling over the top-

“Are you laughing at me?”

That only set her off into another fit of giggles, and he felt his annoyance melt away as he remembered how damn beautiful she was when she laughed.

She tried to reign in her amusement, knowing it was probably offending him, but he looked so adorable standing in the middle of the kitchen, hair mussed, feet and chest bare, apron tied around his waist and spatula in hand. A far cry from the cool, polished faÃ§ade he presented to the world - and a welcome sight to her hungry eyes.

Gradually, she saw the annoyance drain away from his face as she vainly fought for control, until his mouth tipped up at the corners and an amused glint crept into his eyes. He advanced on her, growling playfully in his throat, backing her up against the wooden wall. Giggling uncontrollably, she stepped back, feeling the solid wall at her back and the heat radiating from him in front. Gasping for air, eyes sparkling and laughter bubbling from her lips, she grinned up at him, happy just to be there and have him laughing with her like old times.

And then his fingers sprang forwards, dancing along her sides, and she was squirming against him, gulping in air only to expel it in uncontrollable gasps of laughter. Twisting, caught between him and the wall, she gasped out “Truce! Truce!” and felt his skittering fingertips still against her. Grinning so widely her cheeks hurt, she beamed up at him, feeling the hot press of fingers against her sides, the strength of his chest against hers, and waited breathlessly for his reply.

He stared down at her, stunned by how damn gorgeous she was sometimes, in those moments when her face was open and laughing, her body loose and boneless against him. Sucked into her warmth, dizzy from the intensity, he leaned down to rest his forehead on hers, breathing in the scent that was just Ginny. A hoarse whisper of “Truce” fell from his lips, and she tipped her face up to his, so damned happy it almost hurt to look at her. His breath went ragged and his body tightened, drawing her into him, seeing the spark of something - shock, desire, need - growing in her eyes. And then his lips were on hers, his tongue was licking inside and her body was crushed against his, and all was right in his world.

Dizzy, spinning out of control in a star-field of light, she swirled, lost in the world that was just Draco. Breathing him in, their lips clashing, taut muscles underneath her wandering fingers, she fell into him completely, not caring about words like `platonic' or `safe' - just wanting to feel.

Gradually, their desperateness calmed and the kiss morphed from ravaging to soothing, and then to content. Lips slid softly, hands rested quietly, the intensity slowing until it was enough to just stay there, a moment paused in time before they had to return to reality and `platonic friends'.

Eventually, Draco murmured something about breakfast against her lips and she laughed quietly, for no reason at all. He smiled back at her and they stepped apart slowly, the invisible wall of `just friends' sliding back into place. What had just happened - it was too much, too soon. Too intense, a break in their carefully built wall of friendship brought on by laughter and taught nerves eased by childish play.

To follow on would be to invite disaster - at least, that's what Ginny told herself as she turned to plate the bacon and eggs. To be just friends was better - safer. At least for now. But as she turned to carry their breakfast out the table, she allowed herself the very first spark of hope that, maybe, there was some form of feeling on his side as well. Something more than just friends, even if it was something as basic as lust or want. Something that could be built on - from lust to want to need, so that someday, maybe - just maybe - Draco might learn to love her just a little. Someday.

But for now, she set their breakfast down and smiled placidly at him, extending the hand of platonic friendship once again. He looked at her, eyes unreadable, then smiled back slowly. Friends again - real friends, like before this whole mess began - a truce, of sorts. And, for now, it was enough.

o-o-o

She knelt, swatting at flies absently, dirt running over her hands and the sun beating down on her back. Moving slowly, carefully, she picked up the uprooted plant and settled it in its new place, her actions firm and precise. She piled the dirt around the stem, pressing down hard then heaping a little more on, allowing the mindless repetition of the task to drive all other thoughts out of her head. Thoughts like `too hard' or `not enough' - troublesome thoughts that had been running through mind her more frequently of late, humming along tautened nerves and fraying tempers. Thoughts that had no business being in her head to start with.

Letting out a frustrated huff of air, she sat back on her heels and rubbed at her dirt-stained face, succeeding only in smearing it more completely. Her patience was tried of late, her temper ragged - her nerves were strung too tight, and she had no idea why. Well, that wasn't strictly true - she knew perfectly well why, she just didn't want to admit it. It had little to do with the sticky heat that had overtaken them in the past days, as she had suggested to her mother when pressed for an explanation, and a lot to do with Draco. A lot to do with the way he would rush out of the house in the morning, stopping only for a snatched breakfast and a hurried goodbye. A lot to do with the way that he never talked to her anymore, or even looked at her if he could help it. A lot to do with the way he made feelings of hopelessness run through her every time his eyes slid past her as though she was invisible.

A fat, wet tear plopped on the ground beside her and she smiled shakily, rubbing at it. Good to know it was going to the earth to do some good for once instead of just soaking her pillow every night.

But the worst part of it was, she thought it had been getting better. She thought they had gotten past the initial awkwardness and moved on to being, if nothing else, friends. For that one moment weeks ago as she had stood there, smiling at him and seeing an answering glint in his eyes, she had allowed herself to believe that it was ok. That it was getting better. That he might even love her one day, if she waited long enough.

More tears rained down now, sparkling silver plopping in the damp earth beside her. That was what had hurt the most, she decided, drawing in a shaky breath - that she had allowed herself to believe, to hope. And then he had gone back to that cold, hard stranger that she didn't know at all. Draco, the Quidditch player - Draco, the socialite. Never Draco, her friend - not anymore.

But she had never been promised anything different, right from the start - it had been clear that this was a business arrangement and nothing else. It had been stupid - stupid of her to expect something more, and she knew it. So she straightened her shoulders, taking in a deep breath and scrubbing roughly at tear-stained eyes - ready to go inside and get ready for another stilted meal where she made polite, stiff conversation with the cold shell that was all that was left of Draco these days.

And it was nowhere near enough.

o-o-o

He stood on the in the doorway, watching her move around the kitchen, her movements careful and precise. There was no spark in her eyes anymore, no glint of fun or happiness. Her limbs were stiff, her face guarded - she moved like a woman on the brink of exhaustion, and he cursed himself each and every time he saw her for being the cause. For he noticed every change, every nuance - nothing about her escaped his notice, even as he worked harder and harder to conceal that fact from her. It was better that way.

Even now, his limbs shaking with fatigue and his muscles infused with that particular blend of tension-stiffness that came only after a gruelling practice, he saw the way her head drooped hopelessly, as if she didn't have the will to hold it up properly. And damned himself to the deepest region of hell for turning his beautiful, sparkling Ginny into this defeated woman without hope or pride. But it was really the only way it could be, so he sucked in the despair and desperation and moved into the room, ready for another night of trying as hard as he could to make himself cold and unreadable. Ready for another night of seeing the warmth fade out of her eyes with every frigid look and word he lashed out with, slashing feelings with hurt and deliberation.

She looked up at him as he moved in, desperation and need flashing in her eyes briefly before being swept over by a practiced blankness. And she tried, oh how she tried to make herself cold and vacant, but he could still read her every thought even as they ripped him apart. Such was the price of love, he thought bitterly as he smiled the icy smile that had become second nature to him in the weeks gone by.

And for the protection of his heart, it was a price he would willingly pay. Even as every breath he took in ripped across his lungs, even as every carefully blank look from her made him feel like he'd been sucker-punched. Even as he was torn from the inside out, he would give it all and then give some more to keep his heart from the one thing that could shatter it completely instead of just bruising.

Love. Ginny.

o-o-o

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