Author's Note: A big thank you to those who have read. If you write me a review I will attempt to respond to it (as long as it contains a valid statement and or question). Just a note, the content of the chapters (scenes really) are according the actual play itself. So sorry everyone, you'll have to wait a bit more for Ginevra to make her appearance.
* * *
Arthur Weasley removed his glasses and tiredly rubbed his eyes. He had to get through these last reports before going home to his family for the night.
"My troublesome family," he thought bitterly, remembering the newest disturbance his children had just recently created.
Just when he had signed off on the last bit of paperwork, a feeble knock came from the door. It was so feeble in fact, that Arthur Weasley wasn't sure weather or not his tired mind was simply playing tricks on him in the late hour.
"Is someone there?" he called out into the empty room.
"Yes, sir," replied a tender sounding voice. The door opened halfway to reveal Neville Longbottom, age eighteen and still looking as though he was in his sixth year at Hogwarts.
Mr. Weasley looked up quizzically. "Neville?"
"Hello, Mr. Weasley," he replied somewhat shakily. "I was hoping I would be able to see-well rather-speak to you in private."
Mr. Weasley motioned for him to enter. "Of course. How are you doing?"
"Fine," he replied, his eyes opening hopefully at the sight of all the paperwork littering Mr. Weasley's desk. "If you're busy, I could come back later. It's not anything--"
"Nonsense, nonsense. You've come this far already," he said warmly. "What can I do for you?"
"It's just that, well…I came here to…" he eyed Mr. Weasley nervously. "Well, my Gran thought it best…" He took a great swallow. "I was hoping that you would allow me to…well…"
Mr. Weasley looked concerned. "Yes?"
"Do…do-you-have-any-water?" Neville spat out pathetically.
With a wave of Mr. Weasley's wand a glass of cold water appeared in front of him. "Thanks," he said after a great gulp.
"Neville, I want you to know there is nothing you can't talk to me about," Mr. Weasley said with a concerned look.
Neville' breath hitched as he reached for the glass again.
Mr. Weasley tried another approach. "If you're in some sort of trouble, I promise I will do everything I can to-"
"IcametoaskforGinnyshand" he rushed out finally.
Mr. Weasley blinked hard several times. "I'm sorry, it sounded like you said you wanted Ginny's hand in marriage," he chortled.
"I did," Neville said quietly.
Mr. Weasley looked taken aback. "I wasn't aware that you and Ginny were dating."
"We went to the Yule Ball together fourth year," he replied feebly. "My Gran thinks it's time I settle down. She likes Ginny a lot and thinks we'd be a smart match."
"I see," the balding red-head responded with a sigh. "And what do you think Neville?"
"Me?"
"Do you love my daughter?"
Neville said nothing for several long seconds. "I do-I mean-I think I do. She's the only one who ever noticed me back at school. She was always so nice and stuck up for me all the time. Even when we were in the Order, she always looked out for me."
Mr. Weasley nodded.
"I know it's a surprise to you, but I've always loved Ginny. I--I wouldn't dare propose to her without your blessing first. Besides, Gran said its tradition."
"But you're still very young Neville," Mr. Weasley countered. "Ginny herself just became of age. Why don't you let a few years pass, then you can think about marriage then," he soothed.
"Gran said when you know it's meant to be, age is just a number. My parents married young, and they turned out alright."
Mr. Weasley was at a complete loss for what to say next.
"Please, sir," he said sincerely. "I know I'm not much, but I love your daughter and I will take care of her. "
A pregnant pause filled the room as both men sat uncertainly across from one another.
"I-I cannot tell you no," was Mr. Weasley's final response. "But the decision is ultimately Ginny's alone. My permission is only part of her decision. If she agrees to marry you," he conceded, "my blessing and fair words will confirm her choice."
For the first time since entering the office, the serious air about Neville seemed to vanish as he broke about into a toothy grin.
"Thank you so much," he breathed excitedly as he shook Mr. Weasley's hand.
Mr. Weasley smiled uncertainly. "Yes, well, off you go then. I'll be seeing you tomorrow night at the party."
Mr. Weasley shook his head bewilderedly as Neville disappeared out the door of his office.
* * *
"Want to go jinx those Muggles down by the lake?," Goyle asked out loud while picking at a water beetle walking across the stone steps outside Malfoy Manor. It was a day later and Crabbe and Goyle were attempting to persuade their leader to return to his old ways.
Draco's only response was a contemptuous snort.
"How about Knockturn Alley?" Crabbe chimed in hopefully. "We always had fun at the shops there."
Apparently Draco found that to be an even less appealing suggestion, as it didn't even warrant a derisive sound of disapproval.
"How long are you going to be in this less than enthusiastic state?" Blaise asked scathingly as he approached from inside the manor itself.
"Until I'm married," Draco replied dismally. "Then I'll be even worse."
"Yes, well, while you've all but given up on your youth, I have other plans."
Draco turned to look at Blaise. "What is that suppose to mean exactly?"
"Just what I told you yesterday. Here," he said throwing Draco a thin silver mask.
He caught it with one hand. "What's this rubbish?"
"We're going to crash a certain Weasley masquerade party tonight. That's you're costume."
He started at his friend. "You've got to be joking."
"Can we come too?" asked Crabbe keenly. "We want to dress up!"
Goyle nodded eagerly.
Blaise ignored them.
"Come on," he said hitting Draco on the shoulder. "Half of British Wizarding society will be there."
"Not the better half," he muttered in return, turning around again to stare at the sunset.
Blaise stepped in front of him, forcing the pair to look at one another. "As you're best friend, Draco, I feel it's important for me to tell you, as much as it pains me to do it, what has become of you." He stared at him gravely. "You've gone mental."
Crabbe and Goyle snickered appreciatively at this.
"Maybe I have," Draco lashed out. "I've been secluded here more than a prisoner of Azkaban, locked up and deprived of any free will and real happiness."
"You can put out one fire by starting another," Blaise countered.
Goyle and Crabbe looked to each other, bewildered at this apparent revelation against nature.
It seemed that Draco too, was lost, but for different reasons. "What?"
"What I mean is you can snap out of whatever this is by putting it all our of your mind. Come with us tonight. Have some fun," he said earnestly. "It's time for the old Draco to make an appearance."
Draco looked at him uncertainly.
"Unless you're content to remain a pansy before actually being wed to the aforementioned Pansy," he added scathingly.
Draco was torn. He in no way was eager to break free of his current state, yet his pride, something he always, well, prided himself on, was being called out.
"I'll go with you. Not because I want to have fun," he added contemptuously. "But because I want you all to see what Draco Malfoy is still capable of."
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