March 1

Things weren't going so well anymore. They were fighting more than ever before. Actually, they hadn't really fought much before. Not during those silent moments at the end of his seventh year, when she was the closest thing he had to a friend. Not during the summer afterwards, when they would sit at the wooded edge of the Weasley property and take in the sun and the heat and the insects and the smells.

And really, they were not so much fighting, as experiencing tense silences. With good reason, Ginny supposed, since her brothers had come down harder than before on Draco. Or at least, on her relationship with Draco.

It was after all, her fault that Harry was feeling blue and no one could snap him out of his funk.

Ginny didn't believe that at all.

But maybe moving in together had been a bad idea, she mused looking around the lovely living room of their flat. Except flat was too plain a word to describe what they had. More like penthouse suite. It was large, with two huge bedrooms, an office, two living areas, three bathrooms, a kitchen, and a formal dining area. Even a library.

The moving into together started it all really. They hadn't even told anyone but when Ron found out, screaming at her in front of the entire family and Draco and Harry, that she was a no good slag, a sodding tart, the reason for Harry's depression, among other things, she couldn't believe it. She sat there open-mouthed as Hermione looked away, her face red, and everyone else just shifted uncomfortably, as if they agreed with Ron but weren't going to say it. Until Draco spoke up to defend her, causing George to jump down his throat. The night had ended with Draco and Ginny flooing home without dessert.

The next evening they had started arguing.

"Why do you feel bad?" Draco pressed, pink splotches forming on his cheeks, the ones that were never a sign of anything good. "You have nothing to do with how Scarhead acts."

It may have been true, but she still felt guilt filling her soul and seeping out her pores, spilling onto the luxurious carpet where Draco could see it. Harry had kissed her once before leaving during her sixth year to go fight Voldemort, and when he returned to school a hero, he was so wrapped up in catching up with schooling and being a hero he had little time for her. Not that she blamed him. He should be allowed to partake in his own glory. But while he was enjoying the spotlight, Ginny turned to Quidditch, since there was nothing like flying to clear your mind. And so did Draco Malfoy.

Ginny shook herself free of her thoughts and stepped across the room to the large window. Draco would be home soon. She was tired of the arguing and the silly rows over nothing important. She wanted to make up. She wanted it to stop raining. The long, wet streaks on the window distorted her view of the street below and she imagined for a moment that Draco would arrive driving a flashy Muggle car, instead of apparating directly outside their door.

She greeted her boyfriend with a kiss and a mug of tea.

"What's the occasion?" he asked dryly, narrowing his pale eyes but kissing her back.

"Missed you," she shrugged, pressing the mug into his cold hands. "How was work?"

"The usual crap," he answered as he let her remove his overcoat. "I don't even think father knew what he was doing with the company. How am I supposed to know?"

She didn't answer his question, because discussions involving his family were touchy subjects. His parent's home had been used as a headquarters of sorts of the Death Eaters during the last war, and both were serving terms in Azkaban. Not life terms, just terms. "You'll figure it out," she told him, sliding her arms around his waist and pressing herself into his back.

"There's supposed to be a street fair tonight," he said finally, lacing his fingers through hers. "A Muggle one, but if the rain clears, we should go."

Draco was not the person she'd once imagined him to be. She had spent the better part of a year wishing her family would realize that, but in the month since Ron's explosion, she'd realized that as long as she was with Draco, her relationship with her family would be sketchy at best. He surprised her with his fascination of Muggle books and cars, and he thought it was funny how they'd managed to cope without magic. Despite the fact that he was always impeccably dressed, he could care less about fashion and style. It was his mother's seamstress who sent him new clothes each month, taking special care to tailor them specifically to him.

Basically, it was impossible for him to look bad.

Ginny glanced across the room at the open window. Charms kept the rain from actually entering the flat. "It's pretty heavy," she told him doubtfully, "but I'd love to go. Maybe we should go anyways."

"Don't think the Muggles would notice that we're not getting wet?" He set his mug down on the coffee table and wriggled around in her grasp until their chests were pressed together. He grinned, his beautiful smile cutting through his chiseled face like magic.

"Possibly. There's a lot they don't notice." She stretched to her tiptoes, tilting her face up to meet his.

"You're right," he murmured back at her.

His voice was heavier, and suddenly Ginny felt a tightening between her legs. She hadn't felt that in weeks. Instead her body had ached with grief and unrest, her brain churned with indecision and the possibilities of scenarios that played out in ways she didn't like. The thought had been heavy on her heart that it was either going to be her family or Draco. And, dear Merlin, she didn't want to make that choice.

Draco's fingers tighten their grip on her own and she could feel his heart beating through the thin material of her own t-shirt.

"I missed… this," he whispered.

Ginny's mouth couldn't form words, so she pressed her lips into his again, tasting him and enjoying the unexpected sweetness. Suddenly she could feel his hardness, pressed into her lower belly and a moan escaped her mouth. She couldn't wait.

She yanked at the collar of his shirt, pulling it open with force she didn't know she had, sending designer buttons flying across the room. She gasped in delight once, pressing her face into his neck and pushing her thumbs down the band of his trousers. Wasting no time, Ginny dropped to her knees, her lips trailing kisses down his beautiful smooth and pale chest. She stopped at his stomach, inhaling deeply as her hands fumbled with the buttons of his trousers.

Draco's breathing changed; she could feel the difference against her face as she pulled his boxers to the floor. He moved his hands to her hair, playing gently with the long red strands he loved to tease her about.

She loved the way his hard, firm erection sprung at her, begging to be sucked, but she was going to refuse him – at least for a few moments. She kissed all around his most sensitive areas, pushing her lips into the indentation that connected his thigh to his pelvis.

He moved his hips ever so slightly, silently begging to take his cock in her mouth. She began to trail her mouth down his leg when he finally spoke. "Gin, please. Please."

Smiling to herself, she worked her mouth back up his leg, and gave him no warning as she took all of his throbbing member into her mouth, breathing deeply to avoid gagging herself.

"Oh gods Gin." His moans turned her on more than anything else he could have done. The grip he had on her hair tightened slightly. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

So she didn't. She pumped her mouth up and down on him harder and faster. She wanted to make him come.

Without warning, Draco pulled her away and pushed her back gently, tugging at her clothes. "I need you," he hissed, his voice feral. "I want to fuck you."

Ginny let him yank her clothes off, enjoying the feeling of urgency in his touch. She was naked in seconds and Draco was on top of her, pressing into her, prying her legs apart.

"Let me in."

She accommodated him, pulling up her knees, dragging the soles of her feet over the thick carpet.

He slid inside of her and she gasped, arching her back beneath him and pressing her hips into his with all the force she had. She loved that feeling. They remained still for a moment, savoring the fullness, the absolute completeness that summed up all great sex was about.

They began to move together, grinding against each other in perfect unison and Ginny's ragged breathing began to mingle with Draco's. Then she was lost, drowning in a perfect sea of sex and sweat and smells. She felt her body blend into his, melting together to become one.

She felt fire, literal scorching heat in every spot that their skin came into contact and she cried out his name as the thrusts of his cock became more rapid, grinding her clit until her toes were curled so tight and her thighs were almost keeping Draco from moving.

"Come, Ginny," he whispered hotly into her ear. "Come on me."

She let go and came, her back arching and her body twitching as she rode the waves of her orgasm over and over, calling his name.

"Love you, love you, love you," she gasped as she rode the end of her euphoric high, crying out as he began thrusting into her again.

"Love you too."

"Fuck me," she begged, despite the fact that her legs were numb and the pressure of Draco's hardness deep within her overly sensitive folds made her want to scream.

Draco groaned, pumping hard as she tried to move beneath him.

It took seconds, and Ginny struggled to keep her eyes open so she could take in all of him, knowing he was about to come as his eyelids fluttered closed and his mouth remained open.

She felt him, felt his warmth spread within her, and the thought of his orgasm sent her over the edge again. She squeezed herself around him, tightening the walls of her wet sex so that she could take in all of him.

She cried out with him as they came in unison.

They lay together, not moving but gasping to catch their breath and dripping with sweat and desire.

"I don't wanna not do this again," Draco finally whispered in her ear. "I don't like it when things are weird between us."

She nodded, circling her arms around his back, ready to drift off for a nap. "I love you."

"Love you too." There was a pause. "I think we were meant to be, Gin. I think we were."

She opened her eyes to look at him.

His expression was serious, and as always, unreadable. "Together, we can make it. Don't you think?"

She never knew quite what the mood was he got in, but it was always odd and future oriented. "I think so," she said, not quite sure what she was agreeing to.

"I think we can truly say, together we are invincible."

Ginny raised one finger, drawing it lightly over his cheek. "Are we?"

"We're always going to have family issues," he told her, his voice growing sleepy. "But we'll get through."

Surprisingly, the rain did stop right before dinner. Even though a charm would have worked just as well, Ginny pulled on her cherry printed rain boots. When mingling with the Muggles, she had concluded it was best to fit in. Although, as Blaise had recently pointed out to them, Ginny and Draco never fit in anywhere. Draco with his platinum hair and silver eyes, skin so smooth and pale he could have been carved from marble and his stoic, mask-like expression. Sometimes his perfection scared Ginny. He was like a god, tumbled down from the mountain, untouchable and unchanging. And then Ginny, with her Weasley red hair and never ending freckles. When she'd gotten her first job and then her first paycheck, her sense of style had evolved from second-hand to shabby chic. She loved denim trousers, particularly when they were soft and worn and full of holes. If she could spend every waking moment in the tissue weight shirts she'd discovered in a Muggle shop in London, she would. She almost did. Being barefoot all the time was unfortunately socially unacceptable, but she'd discovered trainers and flip-flops could almost be just as good.

Under the cover of darkness, one dreary night, Draco had whispered in her ear that she terrified him. His sleepy voice seduced her mind, telling her that she lucky to be so carefree and serene. How could she not worry about the next day and what people would think and what disasters awaited?

All she managed was a sleepy laugh before reminding him that she was with him. If she cared what people thought, she wouldn't be.

"Ready?"

Ginny looked up from her reflections, to find Draco leaning against the doorframe.

"Let's go before the rain starts again."

"Ready." She stood quickly to her feet, feeling the still exciting butterflies in her stomach that tended to arrive whenever Draco was near.

He studied her a moment, possibly taking in her ratty denim trousers, the I HEART FOOTBALL shirt, and the plastic boots that he constantly made fun of her for. "I love you. And I don't wanna be like this again. No more fighting."

All she could do was nod in agreement, knowing that her family would continue to believe that she was destined to be with Harry, and Draco would continue to be furious when they said so. "Love you."

The evening air was chilly and the thick gray clouds covered the remaining rays of sunshine, making the night eerier than it should have been. Even the brightly colored canvases of the tents and the flickers of light from portable signs couldn't dispel the feeling of gloom. Ginny clutched Draco's hand tighter and snuggled into his side as they walked. They wandered slowly, taking in the foods and ales, examining trinkets and watching the street performers, all conversation lost in the noise around them.

"You. You, come here."

Ginny almost didn't hear the low, scratchy voice that called to them, but she turned as she felt Draco's shift in movement. He had heard the voice. As she locked eyes with the wrinkled form that beckoned them, she felt a chill race down her spine that had nothing to do with the weather.

The old lady crooked her wrinkled finger at them, calling them closer. She lifted the flap of her tent. "Come in. There is much I can tell you."

Draco raised a skeptical eyebrow, and Ginny saw his gaze fall on a small, handwritten sign that read Fortunes.

"I don't-" she started to protest, but she felt him tugging her forward.

"Let's see what the Muggle gypsy can tell us," he whispered, his lips carving out a grin in his face.

The tent was far too warm and too musky, and Ginny felt a drop of sweat begin to roll down her shoulder blades as she sat on a small couch.

"You're not like the rest of them," the woman stated, without even looking their way. "Yet you come and pretend to be."

"Excuse me?" Ginny felt as though a hippogriff were sitting on her chest. The incense was intense and overwhelming, obstructing Ginny's ability to properly breathe.

"Of course not," Draco said easily, "we're richer."

"That is not what I mean and you know it," the woman rasped.

Ginny tugged at the collar of her shirt, wishing she could see the face behind all the veils. "Then what do you mean?"

"I have one thing to tell you, and it is free of charge," she continued, completely ignoring Ginny's words. "Beware."

"Beware what?" Draco demanded, his voice heavy with unbelief and sarcasm.

"The middle." With that, she sat down on a cushion and began to hum.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he drawled.

"The middle of what?" Ginny was beginning to feel light headed, sleepy almost and dream-like.

"The Ides, girl! The 15th!"

"Don't call her girl," Draco retorted sounding mildly offended.

"Let's go," Ginny tugged at Draco's hand. "Come on." Dread, thick and dark, was filling her marrow.

"What does that mean?" he asked again.

They both stared at the woman, who was now rocking back and forth, humming louder, and completely ignoring them.

"Draco, please…"

"What a phony," he said crossly, standing to his feet. "No wonder it was free."

March 4

The rain hadn't let up once in the past three days, and despite the fact that she didn't actually have to go out in the rain to commute to work, she still felt the dampness penetrating her.

"I don't want to get up," she whispered to Draco, who never worked on Friday's.

"Then don't," he mumbled sleepily, rolling over in the bed to face her and throwing his arm over her waist. "I don't know why you insist on working."

Because, Ginny answered silently, I can't live off you like that. Then all those things people say about me being a gold digger will be true.

"Fuck everyone else," he answered, as if she had spoken aloud. "It's just you and me."

March 6

"But it's Sunday afternoon," her mother's head protested through the flames. "And you always come to Sunday afternoon dinner."

"Not always," Ginny reminded her, making no effort to rise from her spot on the couch. She hadn't been to Sunday afternoon dinner in four weeks, not since Ron had gone mental and no one bothered to care.

Molly sighed loudly and Ginny resisted the urge to point out that Molly had done nothing to stand up for Ginny either. But why should she? Molly was of the same thought that Ginny belonged with Harry.

Two years ago, when Ginny was almost finished with her seventh year and word had gotten out that Ginny was seeing Draco, Molly was the one in hysterics.

"After all that Harry has done for you," she shouted, her arms flailing in a windmill fashion. "He's like family, and you turned him down for that Malfoy boy? You can't refuse a serious offer for a one night fling, Ginny!"

She'd tried to keep her patience, but the last line sent her over the edge. "A one night fling? We've been seeing each other exclusively since last summer! Didn't you wonder where I was every day? I wasn't out practicing Quidditch, mum! I was with Draco!"

Possibly that was too much information for her mum, but it stopped the ranting.

"Besides," Ginny said evenly, "Harry didn't do anything just for me, he did it for the entire world. He ignores me for the rest of his seventh year, leaves for another year and reappears, asking me to marry him? I don't think so!"

"Then what are the Malfoy boy's intentions to you? Do you know that?" Molly asked, her chest still heaving.

"I don't know yet. I do know I don't want to get married any time soon, and so what we have works."

If only everyone had taken it as well as her mum. Ron had, unsurpringly, gone absolutely livid, screaming that she was a whore and a tart and a slag and every other impolite word he could think of. He ranted about how she hurt Harry, how much Harry loved her, how ungrateful she was and on and on. Ginny couldn't help but wonder if he would have taken it better if it was anyone besides Draco. Probably. The rest of her brothers were quieter in their opinions, chalking it up to teenage rebellion, hormones and the like.

Harry kept himself in a deliberate state of depression. His Quidditch playing became mediocre. He definitely wasn't a top Auror anymore. When he was around Ginny, he kept his eyes down and rarely spoke. And yet, she'd seen Harry splashed more than once across the cover of some gossip tabloid with a cute witch one his arm.

"Do you do it on purpose?" she'd rudely asked him one night. "Are you trying to make me miserable?"

"Possibly," he'd told her evenly, not even bothering to look shameful.

"That's total shite," she'd growled back at him. "We are friends and once we had a fling. That's that. Let's move on. Aren't we still friends, Harry?"

After that, he rediscovered his amazing Quidditch talents and was picked up by Apleby Arrows. But he still pouted, at least in Ginny's line of vision.

"Well," Molly asked, her face flushed in the flames of the fireplace, "are you coming?"

"No mum," Ginny sighed, blinking at her mum. "We're not."

"I was inviting you," Molly said shortly.

"Like I said, we're not."

March 9

"Harry hasn't been at Quidditch training all week," Ron told her wryly. "He took a holiday last Friday, but he hadn't come back. I stopped by his place yesterday but he's not home."

"And why are you telling me this?" Ginny asked grumpily, staring down at the pile of work in front of her.

"Because I was wondering if you'd seen him."

"Why would I see him?"

"Could you just answer?" Ron said, aspirated. "I'm not asking you to be his girl, just to tell me if you've seen him!"

She finally looked at her brother. "No, I haven't seen him. And actually, that's what you've been asking me all along. You're the one who announced, in front of the entire family and Draco, that I was nothing more that a two-bit tart for seeing Draco and that I deserved only horrid things and that Harry deserved far better than me."

Ron crossed his arms over his chest. "If it was anyone but Malfoy, then—"

"I answered your question," Ginny interrupted him. "Did you need anything else? I'm busy."

March 11

"I saw Scarhead this morning," Draco told her, between mouthfuls of his dinner.

"You did?" Ginny raised her eyebrows in surprise as the waiter refilled her peach tea. "Ron said he hadn't seen him. That he hadn't been showing up for training."

Draco nodded. "We went to an early lunch, and Scarhead, I could see him across the street, just sitting on a bench. All alone. Staring at nothing. It was odd. He's a right freak though."

March 12

"Ginny! Malfoy! Dra-, Malfoy! Ginny! You home?"

Ginny sat up in bed, disoriented.

"Hello?!"

Ron?

Ginny glanced at her sleeping boyfriend. "Hey," she poked him, before climbing out of the bed and stumbling into the living room. Ron's head was floating in the flames of the fireplace.

"It's not even light outside," she yawned. "What do you want?"

"Wha' the hell you doing, Weasley?" Draco mumbled, entering the room behind her.

"It's Harry."

She rubbed her eyes and looked at her brother closely. His eyes were red, unfocused.

"We found him. I found him, I mean." Ron looked around. "Can you come?"

"What do you mean, you found him?" Draco asked carefully, suddenly awake. "I saw him yesterday."

"You did? Where?" There was a moment of hope in Ron's voice.

"At the park. The one across from Raw Sauce Sushi on Third Street."

"Is he… at St. Mungo's?" Ginny asked carefully, knowing the answer.

"Dead, Ginny. He's dead. Can you come?" The hope was gone, replaced again with the weariness. "He's sodding dead."

There was the expression of someone's heart being in their stomach, but to Ginny, the news made it feel more like she had no stomach. "Let me get dressed," she whispered.

She and Draco skipped the showers, something she was certain he'd never ever done before, dressed quickly and flooed to the Burrow.

They were met with a moment's silence, as if her family couldn't believe she'd brought Draco, before her mum's sobs overtook the room. Ginny stared at the sea of red hair and freckles.

"What happened?" Draco asked no one in particular.

March 15

It was raining again. The painted veil didn't smear on Ginny face though, and she stayed dry, despite feeling damp and miserable.

The pressure of Draco's arm on her back was almost more than she could bear. But it was the whispers that were getting to her. She couldn't hear the words, but the low buzz of voices mixed with the stares were enough for her to know what was being said.

"I want to leave after this," she told Draco, her voice scarcely audible over that of the Minister, who was now speaking about Harry.

"We can't," he whispered back, "there's the dinner."

"I'm not going."

"We have to. Your mum will-"

Ginny shook her head. "No."

"Your mum is having all these people over," Draco hissed in her ear. "We need to be there and help!"

We, Ginny thought, almost laughing. They hate you. They don't even want you there!

After the funeral, Ginny apparated home alone, leaving Draco with his insistence to help her mum serve food.

"He left a note," Draco told her dully when he returned that night. "They weren't going to tell you, but Skeeter found out about it. It'll be in the news."

Ginny had remained motionless on their couch for hours, staring at the wall, numb and unable to comprehend that Harry was really gone. She couldn't even recall the last thing she'd said to him. She felt guilty for thinking that his depression was self-induced, so full of herself that she'd assumed she was the reason for it. "A note?" she asked, her voice raspy from hours of silence.

Draco nodded and sat down next to her. "Your mum, she, she understood why you couldn't come. And she thanked me for staying, for serving everyone dinner. She was in pieces."

It occurred to Ginny how awkward that must have been for Draco, to be surrounded by so many people who disliked him, to actually be dishing out food for them. "You served everyone dinner?"

He shrugged, looking uncomfortable. "I didn't know what else to do. I mean, everyone was just standing there, looking at the food and no one was doing anything, so told them to line up, and then…"

"You paid for all the food, didn't you?"

"It's no big deal."

"What did the note say?"

He reached over and squeezed her hand gently. "I've already sent someone to Skeeter's to … dissuade her."

She looked at him, waiting.

"It said that he loved you, but you weren't the reason for ending his life. But that he loved you. And that heroism didn't suit him much, and he'd already lost his family and everyone else, so it was time to move on." Draco's matter-of-fact voice hung in the air.

The emptiness, the numbness didn't leave. "Oh."

Draco sighed and leaned back into the couch. "Should we go to bed?"

"You can," she mumbled, unable to move.

"I'm going with you."

"This is it, the ides."

"The what?"

"That Muggle fortune teller. Remember? She said to beware the middle."

"Gin…"

"She did."

"She was just some Muggle fortune teller. Not real. Not a seer."

"I can't believe he did it," she whispered, a tear escaping. "How can anything be so bad, so bad he'd consider killing himself?"

"I wouldn't want to live without you," Draco answered softly. "Not saying that's why he did it, he was sick Ginny, but I couldn't be without you. You and I, it's obvious that we belong together."

She closed her eyes against the tears and pressed her face into the crook of his neck, taking in his smell. "I want to find the fortune teller."

"No. She's gone. Those gypsy's, they move around a lot."

She could have spent her next few months desperately searching for the woman, or she could let it go.

She let it go.

April 17

"I don't think I ever gave you a proper thank you," Molly said to Draco.

Ginny glanced up from her plate and saw Ron nodding in agreement. She was glad that their dinner was small, just her parents, Ron, Hermione, and Draco. She was glad that Ron had finally apologized to her, although it hadn't felt as climatic as she'd once imagined.

"I couldn't have handled all that. All those sad people."

"It was good of you, Draco," Hermione spoke up. "Really."

Draco cleared his throat uncomfortably. "It was nothing."

"It was something," Hermione protested. "After all, well, after all the things that were said."

She didn't have to nudge Ron for him to get it.

"Yeah. Thanks."

For the first time in a month, Ginny felt a ray of hope.

Fifteen Months Later

"Oh my stars!" squealed Hermione, holding tightly to Ginny's hand.

"I think I'm going to go blind if you don't put that rock away," George said dryly.

Ginny giggled, "I can't. I have to make sure everyone sees it."

"They'll see it alright," Ron chimed in, "from space."

Draco remained quiet, but the smug look on his face said it all. The huge diamond in the ring on his fiancé's finger said it all.

"So have you set a date?" Hermione asked.

"October 16th," Ginny said, extending her hand in front of her, so she could admire her ring. "A lovely fall wedding."

Ron crossed his arms over his chest. "So, I guess you made good after all."

A wicked grin filled Draco's face. "Did you think I wouldn't?"