A Night Forgotten

This story was written for Incognito3 for the DG Forum fic exchange.

Incognito's Prompt: “What Happens in Vegas, Stays in Vegas”

Basic Outline: Ginny Weasley wakes up next to Draco Malfoy, and has absolutely no recollection of the night before! Entirely Ginny's P.O.V.

Must Haves: Must have, at the very least, a little bit of smut (up to your own discretion). Must have Ginny trying to figure out exactly how she wound up in Malfoy's bed. You can use alcohol or magic as a reason(s) for Ginny's lack of recall. You can also have Draco know exactly why they are in bed together or have him just as clueless and horrified as she. This can be a post-Hogwarts fic or HBP and up. Must have some form of resolution at the end (ie. Ginny remembers the night before).

No-No's: No P.O.V from Draco. Characters cannot be OOC.

Ratings Range: M.

Bonus Points: If you can have someone from HP catch them in the eyes felt as if they were stuck together.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from the Harry Potter Universe.

A huge thanks to Aerileigh for betaing this for me. I really appreciated it.

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Her body ached in places that hadn’t ached in ages. Her head pounded, and the shrieking coming from her wand was not helping the situation. Her stomach was undulating, and her throat was as dry as the Sahara desert. All in all, Ginny Weasley had a hangover, the worst kind of hangover. Rather than wanting to wake up and deal with the emergency she was being paged about, she wanted to lie in bed all day and convince her stomach not to reject what little contents rested there. If it weren’t for the fact that her wand was emitting a sound that could wake the dead, she would have just rolled over and continued sleeping. Instead, she attempted to open her eyes, only to squeeze them shut again because the sunlight seemed to want to burn her corneas.

“Shut that bloody thing up!”

Ginny’s eyes popped open, the sun suddenly not bothering her anymore. A deep masculine voice had just spoken in her room. A closer look at her surroundings made her realize that she wasn’t in her room. She squealed, grabbing the sheets around her and hopping off the bed. Her mind went into overdrive as she tried to figure out who was in the bed next to her. Whoever it was had a pillow thrown over his head, but his body was completely exposed—and what a body it was. He wasn’t overly muscular, but toned with the build of a Seeker. His lower anatomy was larger than any male she had ever seen. She now knew why her body ached. She had sex with this man. The thought made her stomach stir uncomfortably, and she pulled the sheet more tightly around her naked body.

“Weasley, are you going to shut your fucking wand off?”

Ginny grabbed her wand, effectively shutting off the sound. Only one man had ever managed to say Weasley with such derision. “Malfoy?”

Ginny watched, horrified, as Malfoy removed the pillow from his face. He kept his eyes closed, his left hand running down his hairless chest. He rested his hand on the thin strip of hair on his lower torso before opening his eyes. Ginny felt as if she had been hit by a spotlight. His gray orbs were captivating. She was never in close proximity with him when they went to school together, and the times she was in his vicinity, they would be trading barbs, or worse, hexes. However, though she hated him while they were in school, she couldn’t say she never appreciated his fine physique from afar, especially when he wore his Quidditch robes. Nonetheless, she had never looked into his eyes, never seen the gray color that reminded her of a stormy day. She pulled her eyes away from his, her vision involuntarily drawn to his erect member.

“I must have been more sloshed than I thought if I slept with a Weasley,” Draco drawled.

Ginny did not reply. Her eyes were fixated on his left hand.

“Didn’t your parents ever tell you it’s rude to stare?”

Ginny ignored him.

“What the fuck are you staring at, Weasley?”

Ginny shakily pointed her hand at his left hand. “You’re married? It’s bad enough that I slept with a bloody Malfoy—but a married Malfoy?”

“I assure you Weasley, I am not married.” Ginny watched as Draco raised his left hand, surprise flitting across his face at the sight of the tacky plastic band around his ring finger. “At least, I was not married before I went out with Blaise last night.”

Ginny closed her eyes, taking deep, even breaths. She slowly raised her left hand to eye level. Opening her eyes, she let out a shriek that matched the sound of her wand, which was still going off in the background. The sound around her did not matter though. The only thing that mattered at the moment was the sight of a clear plastic ring on her ring finger. Her breathing became labored as she continued to stare at the band wrapped around her finger. The fact that she and Malfoy had matching rings on their ring fingers did not bode well with her. It made her stomach churn, and her body finally reacted to the copious amounts of alcohol she assumed she’d had the night before. She quickly clapped a hand over her mouth.

Draco must have known what was happening because he pointed to the door on the other side of the room. She scurried across the room, careful to keep the sheets in place. She burst into the bathroom, tripping as she ran to the toilet. She sank down onto her knees, her stomach emptying into the porcelain bowl. She rested her cheek against the toilet seat, the cool surface helping to reduce the flaming of her cheeks. She couldn’t believe she had sex with Draco Malfoy, not to mention got married to him. Another round of retching ensued as this thought flitted through her head. Marriage to Draco Malfoy really did make her sick to her stomach.

“When you’re done giving me a cause to destroy this entire bathroom, perhaps you can tell me what the bloody hell happened last night.” Draco entered the bathroom, wrinkling his nose at the sight of her vomiting.

“Thank you for your sympathy, Malfoy.” Ginny kept her cheek rested against the toilet, one hand gripping the sheet around her body, the other supporting her body weight.

“Slinky,” Draco shouted.

A house elf, dressed in the fanciest pillowcase Ginny had ever seen, appeared in the room. “Master summoned Slinky?”

“Peppermint tea for the lady,” Draco said in a derisive tone. Ginny glared at him as he said, “Happy?”

“No. I would be happy if I didn’t wake up to you, Malfoy,” Ginny spat. Talking brought a fresh wave of nausea. She let out a groan, which proceeded to make her head hurt more. A shrieking sound suddenly filled the bathroom. Ginny winced and looked up at Draco in time to catch her wand. “Yes, that is exactly what I need you to do, break my bloody wand.”

“Why didn’t you say so? I would have loved to snap the wood in two.” Draco rubbed his temples.

Ginny waved her wand, ending the high pitched sound, which meant her superior had paged her yet again. She gathered her strength and managed to bring herself to her feet. Her head still hurt. Her stomach was still cramping. But the sight of the ring on her finger no longer made her feel the need to regurgitate. Instead, she wanted to figure out why there was a ring on her finger. She couldn’t fathom what would make her want to sleep with a Malfoy, let alone marry one. Ginny walked past Draco, into his bedroom, and tried to recover her clothes. Her dress, which had been on loan from Hermione for the festival they attended in London, was ripped in two pieces. She blushed as she thought of how hurried they must have been. Knowing that performing magic of any kind in her current condition would not bode well for her, she dropped the pieces on a nearby arm chair. Her panties were in better condition, although, they were so sullied, she didn’t want to put them on.

She let out a disgruntled sigh. With more energy than she felt like exerting, she tied the sheet in a knot, making it nearly impossible for the makeshift garment to fall. “I need to make a Floo call.”

“Weasley, neither one of us is doing anything until we figure out what happened last night.” Draco leaned casually against the wall, alerting Ginny to the fact that he was still very much naked.

“Can’t you put some clothes on?” Ginny eyed his member, which was semi-hard. A shudder ran through her body.

Draco smirked. “Is my nakedness bothering you, Weasley?”

“If you must know, it is,” Ginny said.

“Good,” Draco drawled.

Slinky popped into the room with a cup of tea on a tray. “Here is your peppermint tea, Miss.”

“Thank you,” Ginny replied. She took the tea, her hands shaking slightly, and sat down in the arm chair her dress rested on. After a few sips of the tea, she began to feel better.

“What can you recollect from last night?” he asked, and Ginny was relieved to see Draco slip on a pair of low slung cashmere pants as he spoke. “The only thing I remember is drinking with Blaise at a club in Muggle London. We were on our way home when we stumbled upon a Muggle festival in Hyde Park. Blaise insisted we check it out, and the last thing I remember is drinking Muggle beer.”

“You go to clubs in Muggle London?” Ginny couldn’t hide her surprise at his statement. Draco Malfoy hanging out amongst Muggles was akin to her becoming a Death Eater.

“Unlike in the Wizarding world, the people in Muggle London don’t stare at me as if I’m going to pull out my wand and kill them on the spot. Not that it should matter to you.” Draco’s face didn’t reveal any emotion, though his eyes were an odd shade of gray and his tone sharp.

Ginny wanted to press him for more information, her curiosity demanding she dig into Draco’s inner psyche. But the weight of the ring on her finger reminded her that she had to figure out what happened the night before. Getting into the mind of her arch-nemesis-turned-husband would have to wait. She sipped her tea in an attempt to prolong the time until she had to share. She still needed to gather the details from the previous night. From what Draco said, she knew she and Draco must have met at the festival. Hermione had brought her to the festival in order to open her eyes to the Muggle world, as well as get a night out.

“Hermione took me to the festival you’re talking about. Well, we had dinner first,” Ginny finally said. “I remember having a few drinks at dinner. When we went to the festival, we were listening to all the different performances. Every stall we went to had alcoholic beverages and we just kept drinking. At least, I kept drinking. I’m not very sure about Hermione.”

“Do you remember anything relevant to this ring, Weasley?” Draco cut off her rambling, a look of impatience on his face.

“No.” Ginny shook her head, too confused to snap back at him.

“Slinky,” Draco hollered.

Slinky popped into the room. “Yes, Master Draco?”

“Get me two headache potions,” Draco snarled.

“Yes, Master Draco,” Slinky said with a bow.

“Malfoy, unless you want Aurors beating down your door, I need to Floo St. Mungo’s.” Ginny set her teacup down on the mantle of the fireplace, her mind running a mile a minute. While she wanted to do nothing more than find a remedy to her situation, she needed to Floo her superior. The last thing she wanted to do was get fired on top of everything. “They’ll need to know I can’t come in today.”

“Do you plan on doing that in a sheet? Oh, I forgot. You Weasleys have always been too poor to afford clothes,” Draco drawled.

“You still haven’t managed to grow up, Malfoy. I would think at twenty-six you would be able to come up with new insults,” Ginny said calmly. Inside, she wanted to do nothing more than wring his neck. However, she did not feel like going to Azkaban for murder. “I don’t know how this slipped your supposedly astute observation, Malfoy. But when you make a Floo call, they only see your head.”

“The Floo powder is on top of the mantle,” Draco said bluntly before stepping out of the room and into the bathroom.

Ginny tossed the Floo powder into the fireplace, yelling, “Healer Carrington’s office, St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.” She stuck her head into the fireplace. Within seconds, her head was floating in her superior’s office. “Hello?”

“Healer Weasley, is that you?” An elderly woman bustled into view. “Healer Carrington has been going mad because you aren’t here.”

“What’s the case, Celia?” asked Ginny.

“Oh, it’s just Mrs. Pollack. She thought she was in labor again. According to Healer Carrington, she is dilating, slowly though,” Celia said.

“Carrington should be able to handle that. Tell him that I’m using up my personal day today. I have an emergency to deal with.” Ginny crossed her fingers behind her back that Celia wouldn’t ask questions. It didn’t work.

“Oh, is something wrong in the family?” asked Celia.

“Yes, family emergency,” Ginny replied. It wasn’t exactly a lie. Since she was married to Draco, he was, technically, family. “I have plenty of personal days stored up. This shouldn’t be an issue.”

“No worries. I’ll deal with Healer Carrington. Take care, dear,” Celia said.

Ginny removed her head from the fireplace. The spinning had not helped her pounding headache or nausea. Luckily, Slinky, or perhaps Draco, had set a vial of headache potion next to her tea. The sound of the shower running informed her that he was taking a shower. She downed the potion, sipping her tea in order to keep down the blue liquid. As her headache dissipated, she took her wand and cast a quick Reparo charm on Hermione’s dress. A Scourgify was performed on her knickers. With quick speed, she put on the long flowing gown. She looked silly in the navy blue dress with a beaded neckline. The prior night, she had fit in with the Muggles.

Obviously, there hadn’t just been Muggles there. Ginny sank down into the armchair and raised her left hand. The fact that she was married to Draco Malfoy was finally sinking in, and she couldn’t believe it. Her brothers would go absolutely ballistic. Her father would, more than likely, give her a lecture on why it isn’t good to drink, not like she needed that lecture anymore, and her mother would either be completely upset—or she would celebrate the fact that Ginny was finally married. Her mother was beginning to believe that Ginny planned on remaining single for the rest of her life, which wasn’t Ginny’s intention. But after the final war and things not working out with Harry, Ginny had thrown herself into work. Her flat was a place of rest, not used for social gatherings of any kind. Some nights, she slept at the hospital because it made more sense than going home.

Ginny jumped when the bathroom door swung open. Draco exited, a towel slung around his hips, his hair wet and dripping. Beads of moisture glistened on his perfectly toned torso, and a smirk appeared on his face when he caught her watching him. She touched a hand to her cheeks, which reddened at the sight of him dropping his towel. She had never met anyone who was so unabashed about their body. People seemingly always had insecurities; apparently, Draco did not. She watched him while he got dressed, the way his muscles rippled under his skin. Though she may not like him, she could not deny that his body was that of Adonis, especially when he gave her such a good view of his arse. She snapped out of those thoughts after he was dressed. His attire and composure made her realize she still bore the scent of alcohol, smoke, and sex.

“I have to go home. I need a shower and some fresh clothes,” Ginny said.

“We have to sort this out, Weasley. Or should I say Malfoy?”

Ginny wrinkled her nose. “Never call me that.”

“I’m only speaking the truth,” Draco drawled.

“Speak less of it,” Ginny said tersely.

“Meet me back here in fifteen minutes,” Draco ordered. He raised his hand to his face. “I am going to contact my lawyer about this and see what we can do.”

“I’m not a bloody house elf you can order around, Malfoy.” Ginny glared at him, wondering where the hell he got off.

“Unless you would like to permanently be attached to me, which I know you would love because of all the money it entails, I suggest you come back in fifteen minutes,” Draco said. “Dress in Muggle clothes.”

“You’re my personal stylist now?”

“There is a Muggle restaurant I like to go to, Weasley. I usually have my breakfast there on the weekends.” Draco raised an eyebrow. “It’ll give us the privacy we need.”

“More private than your own flat?” asked Ginny.

“My mother, Blaise, and several other people like to stop by on weekends. Usually, people visit friends, Weasley. Or are you unaware of that fact because you have no friends?” questioned Draco.

“At least I don’t have to buy my friends, Malfoy. How many of them can you actually say like you?” Ginny tossed Floo powder into the fireplace, yelling out for her flat.

“Black Townhouse, fifteen minutes, Weasley,” Draco snapped as she whirled around in the flames.

Ginny landed in the living room of her flat, pissed. When he spoke about her not having friends, it had hit a spot. In truths, she barely possessed friends. Sure, she had Hermione. But Hermione was obligated to be her friend because she was married to Ron. There was Luna, but she was so often away on adventures, trying to find a creature that did not exist, that she couldn’t really be counted. Other than her brothers, there was no one else. She didn’t hang out on weekends with the people she worked with, even though she was always asked. It wasn’t in her nature to be a social person. She was reclusive, partly because of her breakup with Harry.

After her breakup, it was hard for her to rejoin the world. She wasn’t known as Healer extraordinaire, Ginny Weasley. People called her Harry Potter’s ex-girlfriend. Her patients asked her if she and the boy-who-lived-to-forever-destroy-her-life still spoke. Even after two years, she was still known as the ex of the Chosen One. Sometimes, even her family asked her if she and Harry were friends still. It was annoying to always be faced with questions about Harry Potter. She was not Ginevra Potter. She was Ginevra Weasley. She was her own person. That was part of the reason why things didn’t work out with Harry. He wanted a cookie cutter family, the opposite of what he grew up in. He wanted her to raise their children. He wanted her to be her mother. They had ended things. And now, she would be forever known as Harry Potter’s former girlfriend.

In a way, she was beginning to understand what Draco was talking about, the obscurity of being in the Muggle world. He had a point. In the Muggle world, he probably wasn’t known as the boy who was responsible for her brother being mauled by a werewolf. He wasn’t considered the son of a Death Eater, or worst, a Death Eater. He likely was not the most hated man. He probably blended in with the crowd, which was something she desired the most. For years, she always had a title, the youngest of the Weasleys, Harry Potter’s girlfriend, and Harry Potter’s ex-girlfriend. For once, she wanted to be a face in the crowd. She just wanted to be Ginny Weasley, the unknown.

“I must be going crazy if I’m seeing eye-to-eye with Draco Malfoy.” Ginny pressed a hand to her forehead.

The feeling of the plastic ring against her forehead reminded her that she needed to take a shower and get back to the Black Townhouse. Now that she thought about the fact that he called it the Black Townhouse was odd. She brushed these thoughts off as she made her way through her flat, her empty flat. There was very little in her living room. She had a couch, a stand for her wireless, and a carpet. Her bedroom didn’t look any better. She had a bed with plain white sheets and covers on it. She had a dresser, which held very little clothing as she didn’t need it. All she wore were her Healer’s robes and, every once in a while, a pair of denims and a t-shirt.

She moved into her bathroom and turned on her pipes. In minutes, steam filled the room. It was the room she loved the most in her home. The shower was a rain shower. She stepped inside, the water immediately pouring down on her, soaking her. The pressurized droplets of water massaged the kinks out of her shoulders. She banished any thoughts of the blasted ring on her finger out of her mind—Draco Malfoy didn’t exist in her shower. She relaxed as she scrubbed her skin clean, watching as the dirt and grime from the night before and the morning dissipated. The smell of sex washed off with the soap running down her body. When she washed in between her legs, she had to wince; she was incredibly sore. There were also fingerprint bruises behind her knees, and she wondered how rough it could have been.

She raised her hips in an attempt to get him to join their bodies. The tip of his erect member touched her clit, sending sparks through her body. Finally, he slid into her, her walls contracting around him. The feeling of him inside of her was unlike any other sexual experience she ever had—he was larger than any of her previous lovers. He was completely still, unmoving, waiting for her to adjust to his size. She didn’t want to wait, though. She shifted under him, grinding against his pelvis. When she heard him let out a groan, a smug grin crossed her face. She lifted her hips once more, urging him to move. She wanted to feel him slam into her, use her body, pleasure her. She wanted him to make her pass out from pleasure.

“Please, Draco,” she moaned.

Immediately, his body surged into motion. It was as if her words had lit a fire within him. He withdrew his cock from her body, causing her to groan in displeasure. Before she could voice said displeasure, he slid back into her slowly. He was gentle with her. But she didn’t want gentle. She wanted a good hard fuck more than anything in the world. She needed him to rock her core. She craved for him to pound into her so hard she flew back into the bed. His slow strokes wouldn’t do it for her, not tonight, not at this moment.

“Harder,” she growled.

A predatory gleam appeared in his eyes. He removed her legs from his hips, lifting them towards her shoulders. He withdrew his member until just the tip was inside of her. Just as she was about press him to stop teasing her, he slammed into her with such force, the bed shook. She cried out as he continued, his pace never slowing, only increasing. Her hands reached up to her bouncing breasts, her fingers tugging at her dusty pink nipples. Heat coiled in the pit of her stomach, her body screaming for release. She cried out how close she was and was rewarded with his hands gripping her knees as he slammed his pelvis against her over and over.

Ginny leaned back against the shower wall as the flashback implanted itself in her mind. The memory caused her fluids to run down her thighs, and Ginny quickly soaped herself up again. She couldn’t believe that was her memory. She had never been like that during sex. Ginny was always the one giving, never the one receiving. While she enjoyed sex, it wasn’t something that she usually got too excited for, mostly because her past lovers weren’t very good at it. If she had felt like she felt the night before during sex, she would have probably minded her eight month dry spell. But up until that very moment in her shower, she had never craved sex. Now was an entirely different story. She was more aroused than she had ever been in the past.

She washed the remaining soap off her body before exiting the shower and wrapping her hair in a towel. She was unsure of what she should wear to meet with Draco, but she didn’t feel the need to obsess over it. She slipped on her plain knickers and a comfortable bra. After some thought, she decided she needed some more tea to calm her nerves. She dried her hair with a quick wave of her wand. Exiting her bedroom, she walked across her living room and into the kitchen, one of her least favorite rooms in her flat. She had spent most of her years helping her mother in the kitchen, slaving over the fire, and she didn’t like spending much time in the kitchen anymore.

While she put the kettle on to boil, she thought of the predicament she found herself in. The only recollection she had of the night before was of the beginning of the night and the little snippet she found out during the shower. She was right in thinking that they had sex, very good sex too. The thought made her stomach flip flop, which made her rush over to the cabinet she held all her medicinal potions in. Vials smashed onto the floor as she rifled through the cabinet in search of a birth control potion. Various potions began to mix together on the floor, the water in the kettle boiling over, whilst she tossed vials over her shoulder, searching for a contraceptive. She knew she had at least one left, a strong one. Finally coming across the violet potion, she downed every last drop.

The last thing she wanted was to end up pregnant with Draco Malfoy’s baby. It was one thing to be married to him, but to be having his baby? She shuddered at the thought. She looked down at the mess on the floor. A quick Scourgify cleaned the mix of different potions off the floor. She would have to remember to restock her cabinet. Her stomach churned for the millionth time, reminding her that she had planned on taking something for her stomachache, but that she had smashed the last of her healing solutions while searching for the birth control potion. She turned off the stove and grabbed a teacup from a cupboard. She poured hot water into her teacup, her mind once again drifting to her situation.

She tried her best to think back on the night before. But every time she did, she drew a blank and her head hurt. She didn’t know what would ever possess her to marry Draco Malfoy. She hadn’t interacted with him at all since Hogwarts. She did see him at least twice a week, though, at the hospital. It was the one place in the Wizarding world that he didn’t seem to shy away from. Ginny figured it was because of his father’s influence at the hospital.

Lucius Malfoy had embarked on a mission to redeem his family name. He donated millions of Galleons to the Ministry for the rebuilding of the Wizarding nation after the war. He also donated to St. Mungo’s year after year. He was responsible for several new wards, including the maternity ward, which was where Ginny worked. Narcissa Malfoy, after reuniting with her sister, Andromeda, and her grandnephew, Teddy, had a wizarding orphanage built for the children who lost families during the war. While people were still wary of the Malfoys, they were not greeted with as much disdain. Slowly, they were shedding the stigma that coexisted with their name.

Draco did not get the same treatment his parents did. While Lucius Malfoy had been considered one of the key supporters of Voldemort, Draco Malfoy had been considered the boy responsible for Dumbledore’s death. Even after Harry revealed the truth about Dumbledore’s death, Draco was still considered responsible for it. Many believed that if he hadn’t cornered Dumbledore, wasted Dumbledore’s time, the Death Eaters wouldn’t have found Dumbledore so easily. Ginny had lived with Harry, and she, like Harry, believed that it wouldn’t have made a difference. Dumbledore planned his death like he planned almost everything else in his life. But despite the fact she didn’t blame Draco for Dumbledore’s death, she didn’t necessarily like him either. She still believed him to be a snobby brat.

She looked down at the ring once more. She only hoped that he found a way out of this.

“If I were to be stuck with you in marriage, I certainly wouldn’t mind you walking around my home in your current attire.” Ginny dropped her teacup at the sound of the deep baritone voice in her kitchen. “I would prefer silk, satin, and lace though.”

“What the bloody hell are you doing? You can’t just barge into people’s flats.” Ginny grabbed the closest piece of cloth she saw, a dish towel. It didn’t cover much.

“I’m not barging into people’s flats, Mrs. Malfoy. I’m coming into my wife’s flat.” Draco smirked. “There is an immense difference.”

“Don’t call me that,” Ginny snapped. “Now, what are you doing here?”

“It’s been twenty five minutes,” Draco remarked casually.

Ginny glowered at him. “Go back to your cave, Malfoy. I will meet you there.”

“Don’t be long, darling. I can only go so long without seeing your freckled face,” Draco said sardonically.

Ginny desperately wanted to chuck her teacup at him, but it was already smashed into pieces from when he walked in earlier. She waited until the sound of him Flooing away reached her ears before going back into the bedroom, leaving the mess on the floor. She would clean it up later. In the meantime, she had to go meet her husband. Otherwise, he might come back to bother her once more. As much as she didn’t cherish her home, she didn’t want him invading her space. A pair of denims, a t-shirt, a thick cable knit cardigan, and a pair of her nicest looking flip flops later, Ginny was stepping into her fireplace, whirling away to Malfoy’s townhouse.

She didn’t land into his room this time. Instead, she landed in one of the most extravagant entrance halls she had ever seen, not that she had seen very many entrance halls. Nevertheless, she didn’t expect the hall of a townhouse to look so majestic. There was also something very different about the lighting. When she looked around, she realized it was because it was Muggle lighting. Hermione had it in her home, electricity. Ginny stared in awe at the small fountain in the middle of the room, the lighting on the extravagant floral shaped chandelier casting favorable light on the water, giving it a rainbow effect. All around her the colors shone. It was beautiful.

“I waited for you to put that on?” Draco spat in disgust.

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Did you find out what we can do?”

“We can get the marriage annulled on Monday when the Ministry reopens. Unfortunately, for the weekend, we’re stuck together.” Draco stood at the bottom of the stairs behind the fountain, a copy of the Daily Prophet stuck under his arm.

“Fine, I’ll go home.” Ginny readied to turn back to the fireplace.

“Weasley, you’re staying here.” Draco crossed his arm.

“Why would I do that?” asked Ginny.

Draco approached her, the Daily Prophet outstretched. “You’re not a good liar, Weasley. And our marriage is on the front page.”

Ginny grabbed the paper from him, her jaw dropping. “How did they find out about this?”

Her mother was going to kill her. There, on the front page of the Daily Prophet, was a picture of her and Draco in front of an altar, an unmoving picture, a Muggle picture. Their hands were entwined and raised, showing off their rings. The large letters spelling out, The End of the Malfoy-Weasley Feud, did not help the matters. She was surprised her family hadn’t caught her when she had been at her flat—surprised and thankful. She dropped the offending paper from her hands, smacking a hand to her face. She couldn’t believe the predicament she found herself in. She didn’t know how a reporter had gotten their hands on a Muggle picture of her and Draco, but she was very interested in finding out. For now, she had to come up with a plan.

“If you go to your flat, you’ll be forced to lie. I can bet you’re no good at lying.” Draco ran a finger down her cheek. “Your every thought reads on your face. Did you know that?”

Ginny slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch me.”

“You didn’t seem to mind last night,” Draco whispered, his lips mere inches from her own.

Ginny took a sharp breath. His sudden closeness had her heart racing. She felt herself moving towards him as if an invisible hand was propelling her forward. She wanted to know what his lips felt like. She wanted to know if they were as cold as his exterior. She needed to know if they were as hard as the front he always seemed to put up. And as she inched her head forward, she knew she was about to find out. But Draco simply smirked and stepped back. Ginny wanted to both groan in frustration and slap him for intentionally teasing her. She stepped back, ducking her head to hide the redness on her cheeks. She couldn’t believe she actually wanted to kiss Draco Malfoy. She blamed it, not only sleep deprivation, but her hunger and her flashback in the shower.

“You’ll end up confirming this little secret of ours, and I will not be taking that chance.” The smirk fell from his face and Ginny saw the expression she often saw on Lucius Malfoy’s face, determination and superiority. “You will stay here, out of sight.”

“I’m not staying here.” Ginny felt like stomping her feet.

“You are. You also sound like one of the children you often deliver.” Draco idly picked up the Daily Prophet and tossed it into the flames.

Ginny’s mouth opened and closed at a rapid pace. “What—how do you know that? You don’t even know my name.”

“Ginevra,” Draco said smugly. “Your friends like to call you Ginny. I don’t understand why you would turn your name into something so—plebeian. Perhaps it’s because you’re afraid to show your true self. You’re afraid to show people that you don’t want to be just another Weasley. You want to be your own person, yet you hide behind this feeble persona, the one that slips when you’re at work, in the privacy of your office. One day, you’ll have to show Ginevra. I find her far more intriguing than Ginny.”

“You don’t know anything about me, Malfoy.” She was feeling vulnerable. She didn’t understand how he knew all that about her and she knew nothing about him.

“Don’t I?” He chuckled. “I pay attention, Ginevra, unlike your family and the people you call friends. I know Ginevra, not Ginny. I know the real you.”

Ginny couldn’t believe she was standing here, listening to Draco Malfoy speak out loud what she herself had been thinking earlier. She wrapped her arms around herself, wanting comfort. She didn’t like the fact that he knew so much about her. The way he stared at her, that look in his eyes, told her he knew exactly how she was feeling at the moment. There was something nagging her. She wished she could remember the night before. Somehow, she felt that it had everything to do with what was happening at this current moment. She dropped her arms to the side, not wanting to seem too vulnerable. She couldn’t drop her guard, not in front of him.

“At least I don’t hide away in the Muggle world,” Ginny said defensively.

“I do what I do for self preservation. I always have. I always will.” He began to gaze at her, a predator who had seen its prey. “I’m not hiding here, Ginevra. I’m living here. I choose to live in the Muggle world because I can live here.”

“You must hate it, Malfoy. Living here amongst the people you once killed.” Ginny smiled victoriously. “How does it feel?”

“Do you want to know how it feels, Weasley?” Draco stepped towards her in a stalking manner. “It feels like our world is all a big sham. I’ve lived amongst Muggles for seven years now. They can do so much that we cannot do, even with magic. We can do things beyond their wildest imagination, yet we can’t live without bloody sticks in our hands.”

“So you admit you were wrong in the war?” Ginny didn’t know how to respond. She simply said the first thing that came out of her mouth.

“No, I wasn’t. Voldemort may not have been better than these people. But I’m better. I fought for myself.” He rolled up the sleeve of his cashmere sweater, revealing the mark that haunted her dreams some nights. “I got this mark on my arm to protect myself and my family. I would do it again in a heartbeat.”

“Don’t give me that shite. You could have turned to the Order,” Ginny said. She finally gained some ground. She had her wits back.

“By the time I knew about the ruddy Order, Weasley. It was too late.” Draco put his sleeve back in place. “You don’t know what I went through those three years, Weasley. You can’t imagine what it was like. You were possessed by the sixteen year old memory of Voldemort. I was punished severely, over and over, by the grown dark lord, the mad man. This weekend will go faster if you get off your high horse and realize this.”

Ginny was struck speechless. She followed behind him when he told her he was going to the Muggle restaurant for breakfast and she could join him if she wished, still in shock. She found she couldn’t even form coherent sentences when an elderly man came out of one of those Muggle contraptions, cars. It was unlike the Ford Anglia. It was sleek and reeked of money. She simply stepped into the car when the man opened the door for her. It was easy to forget most of what Draco said while driving in the car. The streets of London swept past in a swirl as they zoomed through the different roads, and in a matter of minutes, they stopped outside a small building. There wasn’t a name above the simple, tinted glass door that Draco led her to. They stepped inside, and she realized it was a restaurant, a simple restaurant with classy purple and cream décor.

“Mr. Black, you’re running a little late this morning.” A hostess greeted them at the door. She eyed Ginny up and down. “And I see you brought a guest.”

Before Ginny could stop herself, she blurted out, “I’m his wife.”

Draco shot her a questioning look. Ginny just avoided eye contact with him. She didn’t know why she had said that. But she had. And she couldn’t take it back. All she could do was follow Draco and the hostess as they took their seats. Their table was plunged into silence. Other couples and families dined around them, laughing and having a good time. However, she and Draco both hid behind their menus. She was trying to hide the red staining her cheeks, which seemed to be a permanent thing ever since she had woken up in bed with Draco. It seemed that whatever she did, she said something that embarrassed her. She just wanted the weekend to end so that they could end their marriage.

“Mr. Black, I hear congratulations are in order.” A man, who looked to be in his late thirties, came over to the table. “This must be your wife.”

Draco nodded. “We don’t want to make a big deal out of it, Mr. Jefferies.”

“Of course, Mr. Black,” Mr. Jefferies said. “I’ll have your waiter bring over some tea.”

“I hope you know I’ll have to stop coming here,” Draco drawled.

Ginny didn’t know what to say. She mumbled, “Sorry.”

“Having feelings for me now, Ginevra?” asked Draco.

“Not a chance,” Ginny hissed.

“Here we are, Mr. Black.” A waiter set two cups of tea in front of them. “Are you ready to order?”

“I will have the usual,” Draco said.

Ginny stared at the menu a little longer. “I’ll have vanilla Belgian waffles with a side of peaches.”

At the mention peaches, her mind shifted into overdrive.

“Do you know what you remind me of?” His voice was soft as he spoke. She shook her head no. “Peaches, you remind me of peaches.”

Ginny shuddered. “I like peaches.”

“Me too,” Draco murmured.

His tongue darted out, licking her most intimate part. She rocketed off the bed at the feeling. It had been such a longtime since she had been with a man. Her hands threaded through his hair and she pressed his head against her. His reaction was to use his tongue on her in ways she couldn’t imagine a tongue being used. He used his teeth, his tongue, and his lips to drive her to the brink. He lapped at her, filling his need for her taste. He sucked at her clit like it was his favorite kind of candy or, rather, fruit. His tongue darted inside her tunnel, imitating what he would soon do with his erect member. His arms were under her knees, lifting them to give him better access, his hands grabbing her breasts. He twisted her nipples, his tongue lashing out at her core. Her orgasm hit her like lightning striking the earth.

“I need water,” Ginny gasped. Sweat was forming on her brow as the image of Draco’s head between her legs flashed across her mind.

Draco cocked an eyebrow, waving over the waiter. “Two waters.”

“Yes, Mr. Black,” the waiter said.

“No peaches for me,” Ginny said when the waiter came back with two glasses of water. “I’ll have the caramelized apples instead.”

Draco sipped his water. “Are you feeling alright? You seem flushed.”

“Fine,” Ginny said shortly.

“Your peaches, Mr. Black,” the waiter said. He put a small bowl of peaches with whipped cream down. He then set down a bowl of caramelized apples. “Here are your apples, Mrs. Black.”

“Thank you,” Ginny mumbled, her eyes riveted to the bowl of peaches.

Draco must have seen her because he said, “I don’t share my peaches.”

“I don’t want one,” Ginny said hurriedly.

“Peaches are my favorite fruit. Do you want to know why?” He proceeded to eat the peach in such an erotic way that Ginny squirmed in her seat.

“Not necessarily,” Ginny said slightly flustered.

“They’re sweet, delicious, and succulent.” He leaned forward. “They’re soft and perfect when you bite into them. I like to savor my peaches when I eat them. I treat each peach with a delicate touch.”

The seam of Ginny’s jeans rubbed against her, making Ginny bit her lip to stop from whimpering. “You’re doing this on purpose,” she bit out, her face flushed.

“I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about,” Draco said with a grin. He bit into his peach, licking the juice that threatened to dribble onto his chin.

Ginny bowed her head in embarrassment. “You remember more than you’re telling me.”

“I remember that you are very flexible and loud.” Draco dipped his finger into the whipped cream on his peach, sucking it off. “And you love my head between your legs, although, you said you didn’t like anyone else there.”

“Why are you so crude?” Ginny dropped her napkin onto the table. “I’m going home. I don’t care about the press. They can bloody well find out for all I care.”

“There you are, Draco, and with your wife too.” A tall blonde woman entered the restaurant, large sunglasses on her face, a sheath dress on her body. “I wondered if you would stop by to tell me you were married.”

Draco ordered the waiter to get his mother a chair. “Mother, we are not married.”

“Yet, you two are having breakfast with rings on your finger, very tacky rings,” Narcissa said, eyeing the rings distastefully. “Are you not going to introduce me to your wife?”

“Ginevra Weasley, meet my mother, Narcissa Malfoy,” Draco said dismissively.

“Hello, Mrs. Malfoy,” Ginny greeted.

“Would one of you like to explain this morning’s front page?” Narcissa sat in the chair provided for her.

“Ginevra and I find ourselves in a very unfortunate position. We were married last night, but neither of us can remember it. We plan on dissolving the marriage on Monday morning. I spoke with Richards. He said that plan will work.” Draco ate another peach, shooting a smirk at Ginny.

Ginny did her best not to blush or glare at him.

“What a shame. I was hoping you had finally settled down,” Narcissa said. “I hope you know the Wizarding World is searching for you.”

“Yes, which is why Ms. Weasley has agreed to spend the weekend at the townhouse until the Ministry opens on Monday. She isn’t as capable as we are at spinning lies, Mother,” Draco said.

“The townhouse is lovely, dear. It will be like a weekend retreat for you,” Narcissa exclaimed. “I never knew Muggles could be so inventive. The pool is divine, a beautiful room with beautiful foliage. There is a vast library there as well, if books interest you.”

“I actually wasn’t planning on staying, Mrs. Malfoy,” Ginny said. “I think I can avoid the press.”

“I suppose I should inform you that your brothers and parents are hunting for you as we speak. It’s one of the reasons I came to find Draco. I wouldn’t want harm to befall my son.” Narcissa turned to Draco. “Stay inside the townhouse, Draco. Tracking charms and locator spells will not work inside.”

“I’m not afraid, Mother,” Draco spat.

“Of course not, darling,” Narcissa said reassuringly. “But I am. So, do this for your mother. In the mean time, I will be ‘spinning the lies’ as you put it, Draco. It will make it easier for the two of you on Monday morning.”

“I was away for the weekend, Mother,” Draco said.

Ginny found it unsettling how calm the Malfoys seemed about the situation. If this were her family, they would be yelling, screaming, and making a scene. But Narcissa Malfoy simply sat there prim and proper, her face exuding calmness. In fact, she really did seem disappointed that Ginny and Draco were planning on terminating their marriage after the weekend, which Ginny found odd. The entire situation seemed odd. First, a reporter from the Daily Prophet was at a Muggle festival, along with Draco Malfoy. Second, Draco seemed to know more about their night together than he was letting on. Third, Narcissa Malfoy had shown up at the restaurant they happen to be having breakfast at, effectively ensuring that Ginny would be trapped in Draco’s townhouse. Ginny was beginning to believe that there was something going on she didn’t know about.

“I love Paris at this time of year.” Ginny tuned back into the conversation as Narcissa stood from her seat. “Enjoy your breakfast. It was lovely to meet you, Ms. Weasley. My husband says your passion for children is unparalleled.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy. Tell Mr. Malfoy I said hello and that I eagerly await our meeting Monday afternoon,” Ginny replied. When Narcissa walked away, Ginny caught Draco’s curious gaze. “You don’t know that I meet with your father every two weeks? I’m shocked. I thought you knew everything about my life.”

Draco ignored her comment. “It seems we’re both stuck inside this weekend. I’ll have to make sure we have enough peaches. Of course, you’ll be there.”

Ginny bit into her apple with more force than necessary, thinking that Monday couldn’t come soon enough.

The song The Way You Look Tonight was written by Jerome Kern and Dorothy Fields, and originally performed by Fred Astaire in Swingtime. It's also been performed by many others including Frank Sinatra.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from the Harry Potter Universe, nor do I own the song.

I get the feeling that people expected this to be a long chaptered fic. I have toyed with the idea of writing a sequel to this, but I'm not sure yet. This was just meant to be a two-shot. I can see where I would go from here, but, again, I'm not sure if I will be writing a sequel.

Huge thanks to Aerileigh for beta-ing this for me.

---

Ginny wandered the halls of the Black townhome, taking in all the intricate details of the residence. It was a respite from the thoughts of her marriage and her suspicions of the Malfoys being up to something strange. The nagging thoughts about the mystery behind her current situation gave her a headache, which was inconvenient because she wasn’t at home to retrieve a headache potion from her cupboard—not that she had any left. Furthermore, she didn’t see the need to dwell on things she couldn’t change. She was married to Draco for the weekend and had to deal with that fact, so she occupied herself with the many rooms of his home. He had, after all, left her to do whatever she wanted as soon as they arrived back to the townhome.

She started with the pool room, noting that the pool was as beautiful as Narcissa had described. Lush plants and rock surfaces covered in flowers and grass surrounded the stone pool, and a waterfall poured water from above. It was a body of water in the midst of the green foliage of a forest. Yet, this still wasn’t the most beautiful room in the house. As Ginny continued to explore, she found rooms even lovelier, like the library. White and gold walls surrounded her as she stepped towards the center of the circular room spanning two floors, her eyes riveted to the comfortable couches in the center, perfect for curling up and reading a novel. The most surprising room was one modeled after a Muggle movie theater, only on a smaller scale. Even with her limited knowledge of Muggle movies, which she had acquired from nights spent with Hermione, she could tell that Draco’s collection of films was rather extensive.

Ginny maneuvered her way through the many floors of the townhome, her eyes capturing every detail and cataloging it in her memory. When she finally reached the fifth floor, the sound of music reached her ears. Her feet were silent against the carpeted floors as she walked down the hall towards a side staircase. Sunlight streamed down the winding steps, and she wondered where it led. As far as Draco had told her, there were only five floors. He hadn’t said anything about a sixth. The minute she put her foot on the bottom step, the music stopped. Her curiosity urged her to walk up the stairs while her logic told her not to. In the end, her curiosity won out. She slowly climbed up the stairs, not sure what she would find. She didn’t expect to find Draco, nor did she expect to see the room she saw.

It was a music room, that much was obvious. However, it was a room unlike any she had ever seen before. The walls were all glass, giving her one of the most breathtaking views of London. But the view, though very beautiful, did not have her slack jawed. Rather, Ginny gaped at the sight of the instruments. She had met a few people who could play Muggle instruments, and she knew of the basic ones: pianos, guitars, and drums. She didn’t know what all the different instruments surrounding her were, though it seemed that Draco did. He sat comfortably behind the large white piano, a glass of what looked to be champagne resting on top. His eyes were on her as she stepped into the room, focusing her attention on the view around her.

“How is it that you manage to invade my space when there are so many other places you can go?” he said, his tone suggesting he was simply curious and not upset.

Ginny shrugged. “I was exploring.”

“Was the house to your liking?” He gracefully stood from the piano bench, his hands gliding along the keys as he moved across the room towards her.

“You have a beautiful home, Malfoy,” Ginny said, her years of etiquette tutelage under Molly Weasley taking over. “The pool and library are lovely.”

“If you are in need of swimwear, I can provide something for you,” he said smoothly.

“That would be nice,” she replied warily. She was unsure why he was offering her things and not tossing her out of what she assumed to be his private sanctuary.

“You look like a frightened kitten,” Draco drawled.

Ginny straightened her shoulders at his statement, not happy with being compared to a kitten. “I do not.”

“You do.” He began to close the distance between them, making Ginny feel more and more uncomfortable. “I must say, this look is almost as sexy as the one you had on last night. Almost. I could remind you of that expression, Ginevra, the one you make when you come.”

Ginny’s cheeks became tomato red. “Get away from me.”

“We could always accept this for what it is, Ginevra: a weekend retreat.” His face was mere inches from hers. “No one has to know what happens here.”

“I’ll know,” Ginny whispered, avoiding eye contact with him.

“Isn’t that the best part? One weekend of you being Ginevra,” Draco murmured, running his index finger down from her cheek to her neck, straight to her collarbone. “You have one weekend to be yourself. Are you going to waste it?”

Ginny shuddered as she allowed him to remove one side of her sweater from her shoulder. She didn’t know what compelled her to allow him to do such a thing, but the words he had said echoed in her head. Perhaps for one weekend she could let her scruples go. From what she could recall, sex with Draco was beyond amazing. It wouldn’t hurt to release the sexual tension that had been building up over the past few months. As he ran his finger along the rounded neckline of her t-shirt, she thought that it couldn’t hurt in the slightest.

“What will it be, Ginevra?” His voice was compelling, entrancing her. “I am open to anything you want to do.”

“I want—”

A crack interrupted them, a house elf cowering at the sight of its master’s face. “Tinky is sorry to be interrupting, but Master has a guest.”

“Who?” snapped Draco.

“Master Blaise,” Tinky answered.

Draco stared at Ginny once more before turning away. “Lead the lady to the Coral Room, then see me in the sitting room.”

“Should I stay out of sight?” asked Ginny.

“You may do whatever you please. I’m not your master,” he drawled, a smirk lighting his face, “At least, not outside of the bedroom.”

“Shall we, Tinky?” She stepped past him, a smile on her face. She refused to let him get in the last remark. So, she turned her head to the side, slyly saying, “The control in the bed lies with me and me alone, Malfoy.”

Before he could respond, she moved down the steps behind the house elf. She practically ran down the hall, not wanting him to follow behind her and comment.

Ginny trailed the house elf as it took her to the second floor. The room the house elf stopped outside of was only a few doors down from the stairs. She made a note of all the things in the hallway, just to make sure she could always find the room. But those notations fled her mind at the sight of the room, which was aptly named the Coral Room. The walls were coral, the carpeting coral, and all the accents to the golden curtains and bed sheets were coral.

“Will Miss be needing anything?” Tinky looked at the floor shyly.

“Thank you, Tinky,” Ginny said, jumping back as the house elf aimed wide eyes at her. “Er, are you alright?”

“Miss is too nice. Tinky must go. Tinky must go,” the house elf exclaimed, disappearing from the room.

“Bloody elves are as nutters as their master,” Ginny whispered to herself.

She removed her cardigan and tossed it over the couch in front of the fireplace. The room breathed femininity, and Ginny knew there was no way Draco had decorated it himself. Everything, from the chandelier to the bed, was gilded but not gaudy. Rather, it was quite beautiful and romantic. Her hand brushed across the vanity as she explored her room further, her legs taking her into the walk-in closet that held no clothes. She moved from the closet to the bathroom, which put her bathroom at home to shame. Ginny assumed the house was outfitted by a Muggle when she saw the large tub. There were small circular holes on the inside of the tub, which Ginny thought to be silly. She didn’t understand why Muggles would make holes in their tub. Other than the extravagant tub, there was a shower large enough to hold at least four or five bodies, a gold tinged toilet, and a counter with his-and-her sinks. All in all, the bathroom was the size of her bedroom, making her slightly envious.

A pop sounded in the bedroom, and a house elf called for her. “Yes?” she replied.

The house elf held several packages and boxes in its hand as Ginny reentered the bedroom. “I is giving you the packages Master sent for you.”

“What packages?” inquired Ginny. She didn’t remember ordering any packages, nor had Draco mentioned anything to her.

“Master sent these for Miss,” the house elf said.

“Uhm, thanks,” Ginny muttered, her attention on the packages rather than the timid house elf.

“If that is all Miss needs,” the house elf said questioningly.

“Yes, that’s it,” Ginny said offhandedly.

She quickly moved over to the packages, unwrapping the plain brown paper like a little girl unwrapping her Christmas gifts. Her face registered shock as she tossed the various items of clothing on the bed. There were tops, pants, skirts, and dresses. The boxes held different styles of shoes, and three out of five had stiletto heels. In the last package, a swimsuit, she found a note.

I thought you would need a few items of clothing for the weekend.

-Draco

“A few items my arse,” Ginny mumbled, her eyes sweeping over the clothes on the bed. She held up the brown string bikini with an exotic, floral print as if it were an unsanitary item. “What the bloody hell is this?”

“I would think you’d recognize a swim suit when you saw one.” Ginny dropped the bikini as if it were on fire when she heard Draco’s voice in the door.

“Do you find enjoyment in terrifying me?” she asked sharply.

“Wasn’t it common knowledge that Malfoys liked to torture?” Draco leaned casually in the doorway, observing her movements.

“You may not want to bring up torturing, Malfoy. It will carry us down a road you do not want to visit,” Ginny said bluntly.

He was silent for a moment before saying, “I didn’t enjoy it.”

“What?” She was shocked that he was actually opening up about something.

“I didn’t enjoy the torture. I think Potter, Granger—Weasley now—and your brother liked to think that I reveled in it, that I liked what I had to do. I didn’t.” Like all the times he had spoken honestly in her presence, his voice was devoid of emotion. “I did what I had to do out of necessity. You may never see that because you were never thrown into that particular situation. However, I will say this: I didn’t sleep at nights, haunted by images of the people I hurt, the dead and the living. I’ve paid my dues, Weasley.”

“You haven’t ‘paid your dues,’ as you put it. You didn’t go to Azkaban. You didn’t suffer like the other Death Eaters. Your family got away clean,” Ginny spat. “My family suffered, Malfoy. On my brother’s birthday, instead of the family gathering together at home and celebrating, we convene in a graveyard. George walks around with one ear, lamenting the fact that his twin is no longer by his side. Bill is scared to go into his daughter’s room at nights because he’s frightened she will cry at the sight of his face. He can’t spend the full moon at home with his family because of the urge to eat human flesh—”

“Weasley—”

“No,” Ginny snapped, tears in her eyes and sorrow in her voice. “I’ve had it with you somehow deluding yourself into thinking you’ve paid for what you’ve done. You haven’t. Innocent families paid the price of your so-called survival instinct. Do you know I had to move out of my house before my brother’s face could stop haunting me?”

Ginny’s voice became more aggressive as she spoke, more tears accumulating in her eyes.

“I’m scared to go into my childhood home because the pictures of him cripple me. It’s been years since he died, but the wound is still fresh for my family. We cover it; hide it behind the good things that happen to us. But whenever we gather together for our family dinners and special occasions, emptiness fills the room because we know one of us is missing.”

She took a deep breath, lowering her head, her eyes focusing on anything but his face.

“You have your family, Malfoy. Don’t tell me you’ve suffered. You were tortured during the war. But that’s over. You live with memories. I live with physical proof that my brother isn’t here—along with the memories of my friends, pale and lifeless on that battlefield.”

Ginny sank down onto the bed, her face wet from the tears she shed, as Draco spun on his heels and left the room. She brought a hand up and swiped at the tears, cursing herself for letting her guard down in front of him. She couldn’t remember the last time she cried over Fred or admitted she still felt pain over his death. Every time she thought she had moved on, something would happen to remind her of her deceased brother. Her siblings had moved on as well, all were married with children or children on the way.

Not her, though. She had ended up alone, without someone to help her heal. After the war, majority of her time was spent healing Harry, and helping him get over his nightmares and fears from the war, yet he had never helped her. She was left with the scars from the war, with the pain and night terrors, the visions of all the dead bodies in the Great Hall lurking behind her eyelids when she shut them to go to sleep.

She grabbed her wand from the pocket of her sweater and aimed a locking charm at the door. While she shed her clothes, she felt remorse for the way she had lashed out at Draco. She still believed that he thought too highly of himself and had delusions about the fact that he had paid his debt to society, but she still could not justify the way she spoke to him or the manner in which she had done it. She’d taken out years of repressed emotions on him.

She slipped on the barely-there swimming suit and pulled on a dress, which she suspected was bought with the swimsuit in mind, and left the room, wand in hand. She would go and have a swim, clear her head and then, just maybe, she might apologize to Draco.

In the meantime, she went down the stairs to the ground floor and into the pool room. She looked around the room, careful to check if Draco was lurking. She wasn’t ready to face him yet. She needed to cool down and couldn’t think of a better way to do it than in the pool. She discarded her dress and wand, placing them onto a rock before slipping into the pool as quietly as she could. Though she figured Draco was somewhere on the other side of his home, brooding, she still didn’t feel the need to be loud. Rather than splashing about like a child, she floated on her back, content to simply be in the water. She had never been in a pool before, unless the stream behind the Burrow counted, and was happy with just being able to relax.

She basked in the warmth of the water, allowing the current to carry her about for twenty minutes before she heard him enter the room. Ginny didn’t want him to know she knew he was in the room, so she continued to float about the water. It wasn’t until ten minutes later when the current carried her to the very edge of the pool, into the shallow part, that she stood to her feet. She did her best not to let shock register on her face at the sight of him in naught but a pair of low slung swim trunks. His physique made everything that happened before slip from her mind.

Moments later, after they both indulged in a bit of lustful staring, Ginny said, “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t sound very sincere,” Draco replied, draping the towel he had in his hand over a tree branch.

Ginny bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from telling him she didn’t believe he deserved an apology. “Regardless of whether it is sincere, I do need to apologize. It was wrong of me to take out all my anger on you, despite the fact that I believe some of it was deserved.”

Draco chuckled. “I thought I was bollocks at apologies.”

Ginny’s mouth fell open. She had never seen a genuine smile on Draco’s face before. Seeing him chuckle, even if it was at her expense, was startling, to say the least. As he dove into the water, his body perfectly aligned, she began to wonder what else she didn’t know about the youngest Malfoy. She knew about the things that people whispered about him. She knew what she saw in school. But perhaps, much like herself, there was a part of Draco Malfoy that she had yet to see, a part that he reserved for those closest to him. Ginny, after watching Draco surface behind the waterfall, made a promise to herself that she would find out as much about Draco Malfoy as she could before Monday morning.

“If you were ever given the chance to go back and do something differently, would you?”

The question startled Ginny out of her thoughts. “What?”

“Would you change anything about your past?” he asked loudly, his voice almost drowned out by the sound of the waterfall.

Ginny shrugged. “I can’t go back and change things, so I don’t see the point in even thinking about it.” She paused, dipping her body beneath the surface of the water, leaving only her head above the waterline. “Would you?”

“It wouldn’t be fair of me to answer, when you have not,” Draco pointed out. He swam from behind the waterfall, his movements as graceful in the water as they were on land.

“I would change some of my choices,” Ginny finally admitted. “I made a few wrong turns in my life.”

He swam to the edge of the pool, pulling himself up to sit on the very edge. “I said I would do everything I did in the past again, and I meant it. But if I were put in a different situation, if I was given the chance to change my circumstances, I would have done things differently. I can’t change that now. I can only live here and stay as far away from the Wizarding world as my parents will allow.”

It finally dawned on her why she only saw him in the hospital. “You exiled yourself.”

“I don’t go into Diagon Alley or any other Wizarding establishment, barring the hospital, because I believe it makes it easier on people. Katie Bell doesn’t need a constant reminder of the cursed necklace. My classmates don’t need to see me and be reminded of the day I let Death Eaters into Hogwarts. I stay away because it’s easier for them to forget than to remember.” He didn’t make eye contact with her when he finished, his eyes fixated on the water.

“This is what you meant by ‘paying your dues,’” Ginny whispered, more to herself than to him. She stood, the water hitting her just above her waistline. “Your parents roam freely. What sense does it make for you to stay here and not enjoy the Diagon Alley, which your father and mother pretty much rebuilt? Eventually, if you do the right thing and show you’ve changed, people would forget—even with you walking next to them.”

“How easily you jump from hating me to helping me,” he commented amusedly.

Ginny scowled and crossed her arms. “Forget I said anything.”

“You get angry very quickly,” Draco remarked dryly. “I can only imagine what you would be like pregnant.”

Awkward silence overcame them, the sound of the waterfall in the background, as Draco’s eyes widened with realization. Ginny, deciding that torturing him by withholding the information that she had indeed taken a pregnancy prevention potion would be too cruel, said, “I’ve already taken a potion. I wouldn’t be a very good Healer if I didn’t.”

“What do you meet with my father about?” asked Draco, and the swift change of conversation caught Ginny by surprise.

“The ward,” Ginny answered, more out of habit than anything else. Her family often asked her why the eldest Malfoy seemed to know her on such good terms, especially on the occasions where they attended Ministry events and charity events together.

“My father’s special project,” Draco murmured.

“He certainly is dedicated to the ward.” Ginny smiled. “I was surprised when Carrington told me he was the main benefactor. After seeing him interact with some of the newborns and their parents, I am less shocked.”

“He is rather good with children.” Draco shook his head. “He and Mother are pressuring me to marry and have children of my own.”

“No more so than my own mother,” Ginny said exasperatedly. “You would think with Rose, Victoire, Fred, Teddy and Fleur’s pregnancy, she would ease off her constant nagging. Unfortunately, she thinks that since she had seven children, I should as well. I’m not her, though.”

Ginny bit her lip when she realized how much she had said, but Draco didn’t mock her or comment on it. Instead, he said, “You’re too work oriented to manage a family.”

“There isn’t anything wrong with that,” Ginny said defensively. “I’m the best Healer in the Maternity ward. Not even Carrington has had as many requests as I have.”

“I’ve met Carrington. I’m not surprised no witch wants him to deliver her child,” Draco said with a sneer. “Every word that comes out of his mouth is condescending to women.”

Ginny stared at Draco as if seeing him in a new light. “I’ve always thought of you as someone who would disrespect women, much like Carrington.”

Draco slid into the water, swimming towards her. “I assure you, I have the utmost respect for women, especially women like you.”

“What do you mean women like me?” Ginny was wary of their closeness but resisted the urge to step backwards. She couldn’t help but to cross her arms, conscious of her nipples, which she suspected had hardened in the cool air.

“Strong women,” Draco stated, now striding towards her, not stopping until her arms touched his stomach. “I like independent women, the kind that can fend for themselves but don’t mind needing a man either.”

“If I can fend for myself, what do I need a man for?” Ginny didn’t know why she was flirting. She just knew she felt good doing it.

“This,” Draco murmured.

Draco’s lips descended on her, effectively surprising her into dropping her arms to her side. Draco took the opportunity to step closer to her, her hardened nipples, which Ginny suspected were no longer due to the temperature of the room, pressing against him. Her initial surprise quickly wore off, and she brought her hands up to rest on his shoulders. For a second, she contemplated pushing him away, but when his lips moved against hers, and his warm, soft mouth pressed against her own, she couldn’t bring herself to do so. Instead, she linked her hands together at the nape of his neck, playing with his hair. But it wasn’t enough. She pressed herself further into him, standing on her toes in the water. As she did, her tongue swept inside his mouth, moving against his in a way that seemed familiar to her, very familiar.

She moaned into his mouth when he ripped her dress in two. A brief thought of how unhappy Hermione would be to see her dress in two pieces surfaced from the back of her mind. However, it was quickly discarded as Draco unhooked her bra, emitting a groan when he cupped her breast. He sandwiched her between himself and the wall, the different textures assaulting her senses as much as his tongue in her mouth. She had never been kissed so thoroughly; a man had never kissed her so passionately before. It was as if their tongues were doing an intimate dance of some sort, and it felt good. She applied pressure on his head, her fingers tangling in his soft hair, deepening the kiss. She was thirsty, and he was her water.

Floating back to reality, Ginny realized that she and Draco had stopped kissing. He was looking down on her with what seemed to be concern etched on his face. She quickly grappled for something to say. “Wow,” she murmured. The minute the words left her mouth, she felt like slapping herself. When he smirked cockily at her, she wanted to slap him.

“I have that effect on women all the time,” he said smoothly.

Ginny resisted the urge to slap him, settling for a glare. “You killed a perfectly good moment.”

“I’m not one for moments,” he said dismissively.

“I would be surprised if you were,” Ginny remarked. She stepped back when she realized how close they were standing, suddenly uneasy with their proximity. “It must be nice to have a place like this in your home.”

“Are you uncomfortable, Ginevra?” asked Draco with a smirk.

“No,” Ginny said, not being able to prevent the slight waver in her voice.

“What happened to all the confidence you exuded earlier?” Draco matched her step backward with one forward. “Were you not the one who said you had all the control in the bedroom?”

Ginny wanted to reply that they weren’t in the bedroom; however, she felt that wouldn’t portray a very strong woman at all, and might give him the wrong impression. Instead, she quickly said, “I’m tired. I think I’d like to take a nap.”

“Running away doesn’t seem like the trait of a Gryffindor,” Draco said in mock concern. “I thought Gryffindors were all about facing their fears head on.”

“You aren’t one of my fears,” Ginny said as she walked towards the steps leading out of the pool. She grabbed her wand from the rock, casting a drying charm on herself before slipping on her dress. “I think I’ll have a nap and then do some reading in the library.”

Draco watched her closely for a moment, his mannerism suggesting that he was contemplating trying to convince her to stay. “Call on Tinky if you need anything.”

Ginny nodded, moving out of the room at a hurried pace. The minute Ginny stepped into the hall; she leaned heavily against the closed door. She couldn’t believe she had just kissed Draco Malfoy while in full control of her faculties. She could blame her earlier looseness on the fact that she was under the influence of alcohol, but she didn’t have anything to blame it on this time around. She put a hand to her forehead and let out a groan. She didn’t need her feelings getting involved. Her earlier promise to learn about Draco was quickly thrown out the window. His home was large enough for her to avoid him until Monday. She nodded to the empty hall, sure that she would be able to steer clear of the youngest Malfoy.

However, this new plan was also thrown out the window when the door to the pool flew open, causing Ginny to fall backwards, her arms flailing about. She closed her eyes, readying herself for the ground. Surprise flitted across her face when she felt strong hands holding her up, easing her back into a standing position.

She spun around quickly, her hand pressed against her chest. “Thank you?”

“I’ve never heard that sentiment expressed as a question,” Draco drawled, raising an eyebrow.

“I was just surprised,” Ginny managed to spit out, reluctantly drawing her gaze away from his uncovered chest and to his eyes.

“Were you waiting for me?” asked Draco.

“Uhm, yes,” Ginny replied quickly. “I couldn’t remember where my room was.”

“You could have summoned Tinky,” Draco said, his look clearly showing he didn’t believe her excuse.

“Right, Tinky,” Ginny muttered to herself.

“Second floor, fourth door down on the right,” Draco said blankly.

“Thank you,” Ginny replied, this time firmly.

Ginny made her way through the home with every intention of going to her room. However, when she passed the doors to the theater, she couldn’t help but to have a look inside. She loved Muggle movies, and the interesting and entertaining stories that Muggles could tell. Not only had she watched quite a few on the nights she babysat Rose while Ron and Hermione went out on a date, but she had also seen a few of them with Dean, who she dated for a short while after her breakup with Harry.

She made a circular motion with her wand, pointing it at her hair, relieved when the long tresses swept out of her face and into a bun. Moving quietly through the room, she perused the shelf that held all the titles. Settling on one, she took the case off the shelf, searching around the room for the machine that played the discs.

“Tinky,” Ginny said softly. She was surprised when the house elf appeared, asking her what she needed. “I was wondering if you knew how to play this movie.”

“Of course, Miss,” Tinky replied. The house elf took the disc from her, moving to the back of the room. “Master likes watching movies.”

“Does he watch them often?” asked Ginny.

Tinky nodded. “Master and his friends come in here all the time.”

“Oh,” Ginny said quietly. It bothered her that Draco hung out with friends when she did not.

The house elf pressed several buttons on the machine before the picture came onto the large screen. “Will Miss need anything else?”

“Is it possible for me to get some lunch?” asked Ginny tentatively. It had been hours since she last ate. She was starving.

“What will Miss be wanting?” asked Tinky.

“What do you have?” Ginny’s mouth fell open as the house elf began to list off the various foods. She had never eaten so richly in her own home before, preferring to frequent takeout places. “Uhm, I’ll just have something light. The soup and salad, maybe.”

“Yes, Miss,” Tinky said before disappearing with a crack.

Ginny settled into one of the chairs as the sound of the movie, My Fair Lady, filled the room.

Hours later, Ginny was hopping about with one shoe in hand, the other on her foot.

After the movie she had taken a nap, only to be awoken by a house elf telling her that dinner would be served in an hour. She had still been in her swimsuit at the time, so she had rushed through her shower, not quite knowing what her hurry was to meet with Draco. It may have had to do with the nagging feeling she had after she woke up from her dream, which had depicted her and Hermione laughing at the preposterous behavior of a Muggle couple getting married on the spot at a festival. Surely, if she was making fun of two people getting married at a festival, she wouldn’t have done the same thing herself. Her marriage to Draco was not making any sense at all.

She quickly pushed those thoughts aside as she stared at herself in the mirror, surprised at her reflection.

Ginny hadn’t been paying much attention when she grabbed the dress off the bed. Her mind was still scoffing at the knickers that Draco had picked out for her. The fact that he knew what type of knickers she would be wearing irked her to the point of distraction. Now, seeing herself in the mirror, wearing the formfitting dress, looking nothing like herself, Ginny was shocked. She spun around, almost tripping in the strappy stilettos on her feet. Tinky had said that she had never seen Draco or any of his guests ever eat dinner without their shoes on, and the house elf had gone into a mild state of panic when Ginny refused to put on the shoes, which had eventually led to Ginny strapping the shoes onto her feet in order to calm the creature.

“This isn’t me at all,” Ginny murmured to her reflection. She scanned the room for any sign of her clothes, moving to the closet to do the same. However, she only found the rest of the clothes Malfoy bought her. She frowned and walked back into the room to stare at her reflection once more. “I guess this will have to do.”

With one last glance in the mirror, she left the room, moving at a slow pace to prevent herself from falling on her face. All the while, she thought of her dream and the night before. The only bits she remembered were the ones about sex and her dream. Otherwise she was still clueless as to what happened that led her to marrying Malfoy. She had no recollection of even seeing him at the festival the night before. She frowned as she descended the steps, unaware that she was being watched. When she heard someone clear their throat, she looked up to find Draco, dressed in a pair of black evening slacks and a dark blue button down, staring at her, his eyes sparkling under the light of the foyer.

“Hello,” Ginny greeted hesitantly.

“I’ve been waiting for twenty minutes,” Draco said, his voice conveying his irritation.

“I’m sorry, your Highness,” Ginny said mockingly. “Would you like to spank me and send me off to bed without dinner?”

“The former sounds pleasant,” Draco remarked roguishly.

Ginny scowled. “And you said I change moods easily.”

“Shall we try and enjoy dinner?” Draco asked after a moment of silence.

“Perhaps if you keep your mouth shut, I can get through dinner without stabbing you with a butter knife,” Ginny said lightly.

“If you plan on killing me, I prefer you use your wand. Less mess,” Draco said dryly.

Ginny cursed under her breath. “I forgot my wand in my room.”

“At least I won’t have to worry about a hex flying my way while enjoying my meal.” Draco waved his hand in the direction of the dining room. “Dinner has been ready for twenty minutes.”

Ginny scowled while marching away to the dining room, pausing in her tracks when she entered the room. This wasn’t the dining room she had been in earlier. Where the dining room from before held a long table with many chairs, this dining room held a small round table with two cushioned chairs. Earlier, the room had been flooded with light coming from the large windows. The drapes were drawn now, and the only source of light in the room was provided by the candles on the table and the ones floating around the room. The rose petals littered on the table top confirmed Ginny’s suspicions that the setting was a romantic one, though she couldn’t figure out why Draco would set up a romantic dinner for the two of them. Immediately, her mind began to race and her heartbeat sped up to a rapid pace. The sound of his voice in her ear and his breath on her cheek did not help matters.

“You wouldn’t be scared, would you?”

Ginny sniffed. “I told you. You are not one of my fears.”

“Then let us dine, instead of standing around like statues,” Draco said.

Ginny was taken aback when he drew her chair out for her, waiting for her to be seated at the table before going to his own seat. She cast suspicious glares at him when he sat down, her mind still trying to determine what his plan was. Eventually, she decided that he was trying to unnerve her. Either that or he was attempting to get her into bed once more. She couldn’t decide whether or not she was repulsed or intrigued by the latter idea. While watching the movie, she had come to the conclusion that her romantic life was sorely lacking. Slowly, she was beginning to think that Draco was right; spending a weekend being herself wouldn’t be bad at all. In fact, it would probably be refreshing from her usual day to day life.

“Do you like the dress?” asked Draco as wine appeared on the table.

“No,” Ginny replied, pushing her glass away in favor of the water. She didn’t want a repeat of the night of her marriage—not like anything could get worse. “It isn’t something I am entirely comfortable in. If your bloody house elf hadn’t run off with my clothes, I would be back in my jeans and t-shirt.”

Draco didn’t comment, choosing to change the subject. “How is it that you can drop all the animosity you have with my father but you cannot seem to drop the animosity you have with me?”

Ginny was floored by his line of questioning but didn’t hesitate to answer. “Yes because your frequent disparaging remarks tell me that you are a changed man, and I should drop all the issues between us. It’s not likely that you and I will ever get along, Malfoy.”

“You’re blinded by your own wounds,” Draco said.

“Have you given me a reason to stop hating you?” asked Ginny pointedly. “What do you think has happened between us that would make me stop thinking of you as the obnoxious school boy you once were?”

“I can think of six reasons from last night, which had you screaming what a wonderful person I was. I wonder if you’re always that loose and loud,” Draco said spitefully. “It’s no wonder you don’t have any friends. They’re embarrassed by your behavior.”

“I may be friendless, but at least I don’t exile myself from the Wizarding world and think that I am self-sacrificing because I do so,” Ginny hissed. “It’s pathetic that you think hiding will somehow heal the wounds you left behind. You are scared to go out there, and frightened to admit that you care what others think about you.”

“It is far better than not caring about what others think about me, and not noticing the pitying looks that people shoot in my direction because I surround myself with work and nothing else. At least I have people who care about me, the real me, and not some façade that I hide behind,” Draco said scathingly, standing from his seat.

He moved towards the door, stopping at her side and leaning down to whisper in her ear, his soft tone catching her off guard, his words cutting through her anger.

“One day, when your nieces and nephews are grown and off getting married, and your brothers are proudly looking at their children and celebrating their accomplishments, you’ll realize who the sad, pathetic one in this room is. Trust me, Ginevra. It will not be me.”

Ginny flinched as the dining room door slammed shut in Draco’s wake. His words hit her more deeply than she cared to admit, but hearing them out loud—hearing her deepest fears out loud—she could no longer deny that she was scared of ending up alone.

Draco was wrong about one thing, though. She wasn’t oblivious to the various expressions of her coworkers. She heard the whispers in the tea room, the comments about “poor Ginny,” the woman who didn’t seem to have any friends or social life. She had done a good job at blocking them out. But when Draco said those words, when he forced her to face the truth, she couldn’t block it out, not when it was sitting there in front of her. If she continued on her current path, her future would turn out the way Draco had said it would.

“I think I was destined to be lonely,” Ginny muttered, downing the last of the liquor in her cup. “None of my relationships have worked out. This must be my fate.”

Draco shook his head. “A beautiful woman such as yourself could never be fated to be lonely. A man worthy enough just hasn’t come along yet.”

Ginny snorted, stumbling over to the nearest stand for a drink. “I’m not worthy enough for the men in my life. Harry saved the world and I couldn’t even give him kids. I turned down Harry bleeding Potter. I must be bloody mental.”

“Why should you stay at home and tend to kids when you have a bright career ahead of you? You’re still young. There’s time yet to settle down with redheaded munchkins,” Draco said, pulling Muggle money out of his pocket and ignoring Ginny’s protestations about splitting the bill. “Potter is an arse unworthy of your time.”

Ginny halted her steps, the drink in her cup spilling over onto her hand. “And when did you become such a nice guy, Malfoy?”

“Nice?” Draco’s face contorted into disgust. “That word isn’t even in my vocabulary.”

Ginny laughed. “Yet here you are telling me I’m beautiful and that Harry Potter doesn’t deserve me.”

“Potter doesn’t deserve anyone, love,” Draco replied, his hand reaching out to steady her as they walked through the park.

“You’re just trying to get in my knickers, aren’t you?” Ginny wagged her finger at him, wavering on the spot. “I’m onto you, Malfoy.”

“If I wanted in your knickers, Weasley, I would have already had you,” Draco drawled, pulling her towards him. “I would have taken you against a tree and have you shouting my name to the stars.”

“What a lovely young couple,” a man yelled as they walked past his tent. “You two look like you’re in love.”

“He’s the love of my life,” Ginny said theatrically, opening her arms wide, a gesture that caused half her drink to slosh out of her cup. “He’s all I desire and need. He is my soul mate. I want to shout his name to the stars.”

“You two belong together,” the man said. He beckoned them forward. “Would you like to get married?”

Ginny threw her caution out the window and sipped the glass of wine that was calling her name. From her flashback, she knew that she had probably been the cause of them getting married, and that Draco had said nice things about her. That fact alone had her downing the contents of her glass.

She couldn’t believe that he had said that Harry was unworthy of her, and then called her beautiful. She knew there was some level of physical attraction between them. Their sex the night before and kiss earlier in the day was testament to that fact. However, she didn’t know that he considered her beautiful. The term was such an intimate one, a word that she only heard from the likes of her parents. Harry had said it to her once in their entire relationship. It was pathetic that anyone had thought that she and Harry would ever work out.

She stood from her chair, determined to find Draco for a reason that she couldn’t identify. She didn’t know if she wanted to apologize or yell at him some more. On one hand, she knew that he did have a sweet side, even if it took inebriation to show it. On the other hand, she was much more familiar with his obnoxious side. In her short time spent in close proximity with him, she deciphered that he was a man with many layers.

As she moved through the home, her mind on Draco, she stumbled about in her strappy heels. Cursing, she removed the shoes, holding them in her hand as she continued to think about Draco and his many sides.

Ginny walked up the stairs, not knowing where she was going until she hit the fifth floor, and the sound of music floated through the hall, playing a song she was familiar with. Her brow wrinkled as she thought of where in the world she would have heard that song. She had watched Muggle movies, but she rarely listened to the music. She frowned, knowing she would have remembered if she heard it in a movie.

Some day, when I'm awfully low,
When the world is cold,
I will feel a glow just thinking of you.
And the way you look tonight.

“Congratulations to the happy couple,” the man said loudly, the audience clapping.

“We’re married,” Ginny said, a bright smile on her face. “Tell me Malfoy, did you ever think you would marry a Weasley?”

“You have a beautiful smile,” Draco commented.

Yes you're lovely, with your smile so warm,
And your cheeks so soft,
There is nothing for me but to love you,
And the way you look tonight.

Ginny laughed. “Do you know this song then?”

“A little bit,” Draco said nonchalantly.

“You married a Weasley and you listen to Muggle music? Will the wonders never cease?” asked Ginny amusedly.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Draco replied, his voice deep and filled with emotion.

“Perhaps I can get to know you,” Ginny said, her eyes locking with his. “That is, if you don’t mind.”

“I think I could tolerate your presence,” Draco murmured.

With each word your tenderness grows,
Tearing my fear apart.
And that laugh that wrinkles your nose,
It touches my foolish heart.

Ginny laughed, raising her hand to look at the ring. “This is probably the closest I will ever get to marriage anyways.”

“You do realize that this is all for show, Miss, right?” The man who wed them leaned in, his voice hesitant as he spoke. “It isn’t real.”

“Oh, I know,” Ginny said with a short sigh. “But it is still the closest thing I will get to marriage.”

“Unless we made this real,” Draco interjected.

“Are you proposing to me, Malfoy?” Ginny’s mouth fell open. “We can’t get married. I barely know you.”

“I’m not proposing, Weasley. I am asking you on a date,” Draco drawled. “Are you saying no?”

“A date that could lead to more,” Ginny said, her heart pounding in her chest. It had been a longtime since she had last been with a man.

Lovely ... Never, ever change.
Keep that breathless charm.
Won't you please arrange it?
'Cause I love you...Just the way you look tonight.

“If you promise not to be Ginny, and to be Ginevra, I can tell you that this will lead to more,” Draco said, leaning in towards her. “Can you handle that, Ginevra?”

“Can you handle me?” asked Ginny coyly.

“I’d give it a go.” Draco pulled her closer to him, a smirk on his face.

“A picture for the happy couple?” asked the fake priest.

“Sure,” Ginny said happily. She entwined her hands with Draco, holding it up to show their rings.

Mm, Mm, Mm, Mm,
Just the way you look to-night.

“Say newlyweds,” the man said, the flash of the light going off soon after.

“Shall we go home now, dear?” Draco wrapped his arm around Ginny, his head bending down to touch her ear. “My townhouse is within walking distance.”

“Your place it is,” Ginny said breathlessly.

Ginny climbed up the winding stairs to the music room, surprised to see him at the piano. She expected him to be playing it on a radio of some sort, not on the piano. She quietly entered the room, and set her shoes down by the stairs. He hadn’t stopped playing the song yet, although he did play it softer. Ginny moved towards the piano, relief sweeping through her as she thought about her flashback and their fake marriage. She was happy to know that they weren’t really married, though she was beginning to wonder if he had known all along. The whole time he had acted casually about the entire affair, and she suspected that he had been holding things back. But she couldn’t figure out why he would want to keep such a secret. Ginny wanted to know why he would subject himself to her company for the entire weekend.

“Did you know?” she asked quietly.

He stopped playing, looking up at her. “I did.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” asked Ginny.

Draco shrugged. “I’m the same obnoxious school boy I used to be.”

“Do you remember everything?” asked Ginny, sitting on the piano bench next to him.

“Most of it,” Draco said.

“So, you remember asking me on a date?” Ginny’s hands slid across a few of the keys, gently putting pressure on them.

“I know a nice place not too far from here,” Draco remarked. “Are you free tonight?”

“I think so,” Ginny said. She paused. “This won’t work.”

“We have a weekend to test it out.” Draco straddled the piano bench. “It will require that we drop our enmity.”

“I can if you can,” Ginny stated.

“I say we kiss to seal the deal,” Draco murmured, sidling closer to her.

Ginny turned her head to the side, leaning towards him. “That’s a good idea.”

Their lips connected in a soft kiss, interrupted by a deep voice.

“I told you they were fine, Mrs. Weasley.”

Ginny jumped back, her mouth falling open at the sight of her friend. “Hermione?”

“I should be the one who sounds scandalized, not you,” Hermione said, her face conveying her shock.

“What are you doing here?” asked Ginny, blushing.

“Your family is sick with worry. We’ve been searching for you for the whole day,” Hermione exclaimed. Her eyes moved to Draco. “I thought you were in Paris. You two aren’t married, are you?”

“I’m fine, Hermione. I was just—going on a date,” Ginny said quickly. “Draco and I are, well, we’re dating, not married.”

Hermione shook her head vigorously. “I’m not telling your family that. I’ll just tell them you’ve been away all day dealing with a patient, who asked you to do a home delivery. You’ll stop by tomorrow, won’t you?”

“I’ll be at the Burrow by three,” Ginny replied. “Thank you, Hermione.”

“Blaise, you’ll see Mrs. Weasley out, won’t you?” asked Draco, wrapping his arms around Ginny. “Ginevra and I are busy.”

“I’m a bloody house elf now,” Blaise said, shaking his head.

“Have fun, Ginny,” Hermione called as she descended the stairs. “It’s about time you had a good shag, even if it is Malfoy.”

Ginny chuckled and turned to face Draco. “You have Hermione’s approval.”

“One down, a million to go,” he murmured, moving in for a kiss.

“You wouldn’t need my family’s approval unless we get very serious,” Ginny commented.

“I’m making my intentions clear,” Draco said, locking eyes with her.

Ginny pressed her lips against him, the only way she could think to react to his statement. His tongue swept into her mouth, and she experienced the kiss that romantics often talked of, the kind of kiss that made her see fireworks.