The Firewhiskey Conspiracy

Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter or his world; that all belongs to Jo Rowling and she's marvelous for letting us play with her toys. That said, anything you don't recognize most likely belongs to me. Please don't take it.

A few author's notes before you begin -I've been away for a while, working on my first original novel (more news on that very soon), and I figured there would be no better way to return than with a new story set in one of my most-beloved (and most neglected) fandoms. Some of you may recognize this premise as being similar to a one-shot I wrote several years ago, The Gauntlet. The truth is that I've always been fascinated with the idea of Draco/Ginny, and not only the twists and turns their lives would have to take in order for them to engage in any sort of real relationship, but also the way their families would react and the obstacles they would have to overcome, socially and internally, in order to stick together. At one point I was considering writing a whole volume detailing the time between their first post-war meeting and their wedding, but for now I've decided to settle with this, a six-part novella-type thing dealing with the Weasley brothers in particular (a topic close to my heart, as I have four brothers- take Bill, Charlie, blend the twins into one person, and blend Percy and Ron into one person, and you've essentially got my brothers' personalities), and depending on how it goes and how inspired I am to move forward after this is over, I may write more of these dealing with the Malfoys, school friends, public opinion, families coming together, etc, etc. We'll see.

Now, this next part is probably superfluous but as I've had some reviewers in the past get upset that I continue to write Ginny/Draco despite the fact that Ginny/Harry is canon, I feel I'd better cover my bases. Therefore, please be aware that this story is AU in that Ginny is not married to Harry and Draco is not married to Astoria, though most other things are still much the same. This is in no way a challenge to the Harry Potter canon, which I respect wholeheartedly—rather, it's what I see to be an alternate path, what might have happened if things had gone slightly differently for the people involved. Now, if you're still interested, go forth and enjoy. :)


Chapter One

It was four-thirty on a frosty October afternoon, and for the third time, Ginny Weasley rubbed sleepiness from her eyes and spelled heat into her mostly-untouched coffee cup, the sixth or seventh of its kind. Steadily and wearily, she cursed her job, cursed her mother, and cursed the all-nighter that had put her in this position.

Not that she was generally opposed to her job, her mother, or nights without sleep. The combination of the three, though, made for a nightmarish day after, and she was paying for it right now. Blinking, she tried to focus on the work-ups she was supposed to be proofreading before submission, but, once again, her mind started wandering.

Should have taken a personal day, she thought with a sigh, reflecting on the ridiculously small amount of work she'd done. At nine o'clock this morning, of course, she hadn't thought that a personal day would be necessary—still riding the energy and adrenaline from the evening before, she'd felt confident that she could make it through and had resolved to save her days off for more auspicious occasions. That was before she'd slammed into the brick wall of exhaustion at noon. She'd been practically sleepwalking ever since, and now, it was too late to change anything. After half an hour more, she'd be done for the day.

She heard stealthy footsteps behind her, but before she could move to see who was approaching, an arm reached past her, setting a fresh cup of coffee on the desk, its owner catching her with a kiss on the cheek as she turned to look, and then she knew.

"Hey," she said. It astonished her, really—she was in a near-completely numb state and she still managed to feel that same flutter of mingled excitement and anticipation that always accompanied his presence. No need for her to express that astonishment, of course. His ego needed no nourishment.

"Afternoon," he said lazily, picking up her old cup and frowning at the contents. "How old is this?"

"An hour, hour and a half. You're early." She took a tentative sip from the new cup and melted into bliss. He'd probably picked it up from one of the upscale places, the kind that had perfected the art of infusing their brews with cinnamon or vanilla or practically any other flavor you fancied. It definitely was a huge leap up from the basic, bitter office coffee she'd been surviving on since right after lunch.

He tried the old coffee and pulled a face of disgust, though he never did anything so ungraceful as cough and splutter. He forced himself to swallow and then made a noise half-intended to express disgust, half meant to clear his throat. "Ohhh, that is revolting. How many times did you reheat it?"

"…three," she said. He was lucky he'd gotten her new coffee; it had put her in a relatively tranquil mood and had eased the crankiness that had been growing all day. "And you're early."

He chuckled, walking over to her window. "Finished up with the investors a little early today. This stuff is roughly the consistency and color of Longbottom's best efforts at Veritaserum and must be disposed of," he added, pulling the window open and tossing the old coffee out, mug and all.

"Draco Malfoy! There are people down there!" she exclaimed, half rising from her chair.

He pulled an innocent face (as if), and stuck his head out the window for a split second, frowning down at the street. She heard a muffled, angry voice from below, then her boyfriend lifted a hand and waved cheerfully before spinning that same hand around and folding down the fingers, leaving the middle one extended. She slumped in her chair and shook her head with a long sigh. I am dating a man with roughly the maturity of a five-year-old child, she realized, not for the first time.

On a day in which she had more energy, she would probably jump over to the window, smack him roundly, and lean out to apologize to whichever of her coworkers he'd managed to offend today, but she was far too tired, and so she let it be. Draco pulled his head back in and closed the window neatly, cutting off a torrent of angry chatter and turning back to her.

"There, see? No one was hurt," he said pleasantly. She glared at him, index finger pressed hard to her temple.

"You know, you earned yourself a gold star with that magnificent coffee, but I'm about to take it away," she threatened. He grinned and dropped into the chair opposite her desk, crossing one ankle carelessly over the opposite knee as he lounged backward. She was too tired to envy his elegance.

"Late night, then? Did she take it that badly?"

"Well, what did your mother say?" she challenged him. He shook his head, pulling a pensive face.

"It wasn't my mother's reaction that was problematic," he said offhandedly. "She's got her pride, but you know, she feels a little obligated towards you and yours, and she hates feeling obligated. I think she sees her relative good grace in accepting this as adequate payback. Father, on the other hand…"

Ginny winced. "I still say I should have come with you."

"And I still say you would have no idea what you were dealing with," he said steadily. The tone was still light and careless, but the skin around his mouth tightened and the lines that were beginning to form around his eyes when he smiled vanished entirely. "My father is a broken man. Seven years ago, he began to realize that his whole life was skewed, and unlike me, he was neither young nor resilient enough to figure out how to reconstruct it. Instead, he's become a wounded animal—growling and snapping at anyone who comes too close, even Mother, even me. You think what he did to you in your first year was bad? At least then he was acting on orders, Ginny. This time he'd try to hurt you out of some sense of self-preservation, and believe me, my father's survival instinct is remarkably strong."

He had picked up some wryness in the pronouncement. Ginny tightened her jaw stubbornly, though as always, her stomach turned to lead at the reminder of what had happened to her in her first year life. "You wouldn't have let him—"

"Physically, of course not, but that's not really his game. Instead, he'd have struck out at every insecurity you have, real or imagined, and he's gotten very good at it over the years. No, Gin, you're better off keeping your distance from my father, at least till he's gotten accustomed to the idea," Draco said decidedly. "And don't you jut your lip out at me, either," he added quickly. "I know that look."

"What look?"

"That one," he said sharply. "The rebellious one, the one that says that tomorrow I might find you in the study trying to talk to my father. It's the same look you used to give your brother when he tried telling you that Quidditch was a man's sport; it's the look you wear when you think you're being condescended to. Nine times out of ten, you'd be right, but this time I'm not worried so much about your safety as I am about the thought that a confrontation would seal my father's disapproval against your family for good. It isn't worth the hassle. If he's left alone, he might come around, but if you go in and try to change his mind…" Draco shook his head, not saying the rest.

He didn't need to. Ginny thought about it and scowled deeply. He was making sense. She hated when he made sense. She glanced up to find him grinning lazily. "I know that look, too," he said in response to her questioningly lifted eyebrow. "It's the one you wear when you've been Confunded."

"That's it," she said, launching out of her chair and rounding the desk to attack. Smirking, he brought his hands up to grab her wrists as they came flying at him, twisting her around so that she landed firmly in his lap and anchoring her in place with one lean arm. She fought against him, but she could feel her own weariness hindering her from escaping and doling out punishment. After a moment or two, she simply gave up. She could hear Malfoy chuckling softly in her ear as he smoothed her hair down, but she knew she couldn't do anything about it at this point, and so she just curled up against his chest.

"As soon as I get some sleep, you're dead meat," she muttered.

"I have no doubt," he said. She could hear his sarcasm—ohh, he was taking advantage of her exhaustion, and she filed away his numerous offenses for future punishment. In the meantime, though, she was happy with the order of things. Though he was hardly a cushiony sort of person, very bony and lean, he made up for it by holding her just tight enough, making her feel supremely comfortable.

"Weasley," he said presently.

"Mm."

"You wouldn't happen to be falling asleep, now, would you?" he asked politely.

"…uh-mm."

"All right, come on, let's go," he said, jiggling his knee and making her clutch at his shoulder so she didn't fall off. "You're at work, there's no time to sleep."

"Hey," she complained, throwing her hair back and looking at him in annoyance. "Do you mind?"

"Actually—"

"A-hem."

Hermione stood at the door, arms crossed over her chest, foot tapping rapidly and disapprovingly. Ginny mad a move as if to slip off of her boyfriend's lap, but Draco's arm tightened around her, preventing her from leaving as he looked arrogantly up at her friend. "Can we help you with something, Granger?"

"You can stop distracting Ginny while she still has twenty minutes left in the work day," said Hermione fiercely.

"She's right," said Ginny, working to extract herself from Draco's grip. He held on for a moment for the simple fun of watching her struggle (on a normal day she wouldn't be half so tired and he'd pay dearly for the attempt to physically restrain her) and then loosened his arms a bit. She writhed free and deposited herself in her own chair, putting the desk between them. She looked up expectantly at Hermione, but her sister simply looked more agitated, re-crossing her arms the other way 'round and tapping her foot more rapidly.

Draco's head lolled to the side; he shot Hermione a sly grin, and before Ginny could send him a warning glare, he drawled, "Are you waiting for me to leave? Because really, I'll be accompanying her home in twenty minutes, so it would be a little counterproductive if I—"

"You should leave," Hermione snapped. "I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to be here while she's—"

"Hermione, it's okay," Ginny said soothingly, flashing Draco a quick scowl. "I'm nearly finished and he'll behave himself. Won't you, dear?"

He glanced from Hermione to her and back again, and then smirked. "Sure."

"It's not him," Hermione said loudly, though it certainly seemed that with every minute Draco remained in her line of vision, her glare doubled in viciousness.

"Hermione," said Ginny sharply, calling her friend's attention away from her boyfriend and back to her. "What's the problem?"

Hermione opened her mouth, closed it again, opened it once more, and then, quickly, as if she was dragging the words out by force, she said, "It's your brothers."

Draco and Ginny exchanged a quick look, and the former rose quickly from his chair. "Well, then, I'd better be—"

"Sit. Down. Now," Ginny ordered, and, resigned, he returned his bottom to its seat.

"Yes, ma'am."

Boyfriend dealt with for the time being, Ginny returned her attention to her sister-in-law, feeling a jolt of nervous adrenaline that felt quivery and unnatural inside her tired body. "What about them?"

"It's been a few hours since they found out," Hermione said, and that old tone of disapproval surfaced in her voice, comforting Ginny somewhat—as long as Hermione could still disapprove, then the world would be okay. "Ron's been dark and dour about it all day. I popped home for lunch and found that George and Charlie had stopped by and they were having some sort of secret huddle, and when they left, he quit complaining. Obviously, I found that a bit suspicious, and so I cornered him and made him tell me everything. They're kidnapping you tonight and taking you out drinking."

There was a short, flat silence, and then Ginny asked, "All of them?"

Hermione nodded, lips pressed grimly together. "All of them."

Ginny slowly dropped her head to her desk, forehead hitting the smooth wood and staying there. This is nice, she thought in the midst of the fresh quiet. Wonder if I can just stay like this forever.

Draco's voice broke through the quiet. "That's all? They're coming to take you drinking?" It was clear from his tone that he didn't consider this menacing at all, which made it also clear that he had never been out drinking with the Weasleys.

Ginny slowly lifted her head and stared at him, noting vaguely out of the corner of her eye that Hermione had disappeared. Beneath her stare, the arrogant poise with which Draco sashayed through life began to crack ever so slightly, allowing her to see the uncertainty beneath. He knew she could see, too; he began to inspect his fingernails carefully to avoid meeting her eyes. "That's not so bad, is it?" Beneath the question was a question, fueled by the faint sense of dread that he oh-so-occasionally exhibited when confronted with her family's customs, which were so foreign to him.

At the reminder, she decided to give his flippancy a pass. After all, how could he know? In addition to their other (very numerous) differences, he had no siblings. He wouldn't naturally understand the issue at hand here, and so Ginny, rubbing the bridge of her nose, tried to explain.

"Draco, I'm the youngest." Blank stare. "And their only sister." Nothing. "Which means," she said, sighing, "that they don't take me out with them. Ever. I weigh them down, it looks odd for them to have just the one girl tagging along with the five of them, they feel like they have to protect me, and I'm generally just a nuisance in their eyes, even at my age. It's the curse of being the youngest. So, for them—all of them, it seems, to just up and decide that they want to take me out with them… no. I smell trouble. I smell trouble related to you, if what Hermione says is anything to go by, which it usually is."

Draco's eyes flicked back and forth as he thought. Finally, he said, "So should we go meet them? You know, pre-emptive strike before they get the chance to spring it on you?"

There was that chivalry she was still trying to get used to—it always popped up in the most unusual of places, which didn't exactly help her learn to predict it. She successfully (though with difficulty) kept a smile off her face, and her eyes grew wide at the thought of her brothers and Malfoy in the same room so soon after the announcement. "No. Ohh, no, you're not coming along."

"Why not?" He feigned indignant outrage very well, and she was tempted to "relent" just to see him squirm.

It was too chancy, though. He might hold her to it. She simply shook her head adamantly. "Come off it. You know as well as I do that you don't need to have anything to do with my brothers right now."

"Weasley—are you trying to protect me?" She glanced up, startled at his tone, only to see that he was doing a very credible imitation of her stubborn face. She swallowed a laugh as he continued, infusing his voice with the slightest of histrionics: "Of all the nerve, I never in my life have been condescended to like this," he pronounced quickly. "As if I need your protection from your family, crazy gits though they are—that is degrading to my entire sex, madam, and I hope you're proud of yourself—"

"I get it," she laughed, "but I agreed not to go see your dad."

"Mm, technically, you didn't," he was quick to point out. She groaned and dropped her head in her hands again, and heard his soft chuckle as he relented. "All right, all right, fine. You handle your brothers without my intervention and I'll thank you for it. Especially that big one, testosterone factory, what's his name?"

"Charlie," she sighed. "That would be Charlie, and he's not the one you need to worry about."

Hermione had returned and announced her presence by clearing her throat again, this time less pointedly. The two returned their attention to her, and she entered and placed a closed flask on the table. "Granger, I honestly think she's going to have enough to worry about tonight without starting earl—"

"Oh, hush," Hermione said furiously, and turned her attention to her friend. "It's an invigoration draught, Ginny, and I know it's not as pitch perfect as one you would make, but I think you're going to need it tonight. You look exhausted. Why didn't you make one yourself earlier?"

"Granger, are you actually admitting out loud that she's better at potions than you are?" Draco wondered aloud, promptly ignored by the two girls.

"I didn't want to deal with the crash when it wore off," Ginny said, but that had been before she'd found out that she was apparently going out with her brothers, and she thanked Hermione with another sigh at the thought, uncorking the flask and sipping pensively.

"What, do you have them stocked somewhere?" Draco asked Hermione, eyebrow quirked in slight interest. She glared at him, and he shrugged. "It takes an hour at least, and that's if you've got all the ingredients on hand—you were gone five minutes."

"She keeps a stockpile," Ginny said, perking up just a little as the potion began to take effect. When Hermione doubled around to glare at her, she shrugged. "What? He's going to find these things out sooner or later, and besides, everyone knows you enjoy work more than sleep."

Hermione made an indignant noise and whirled on her heel, stalking away down the hall. "Thank you, Hermione!" Ginny called after her. Her sister was either out of hearing range by then or had decided that stony silence was the only way to go, but Ginny shrugged off the lack of response, turning back to Draco and nursing the spicy potion. "Interesting. I can taste clove. She must have added that on her own."

"You're aware that you're going to pay for that in a big way, yes?" he asked as her eyes began to brighten. "Feels good now, but see what happens when you combine alcohol with the crash that's going to come along in a few hours."

She put her tongue out at him, safe behind her desk. "Tomorrow's a day off. I get to sleep all day. I need this if I'm going to deal with my brothers; you think Hermione would have given it to me otherwise?"

"Considering the fact that she's clearly an addict, yes, probably," he drawled, but she saw the little smile around his eyes and at the corner of his mouth and knew he was far more amused by this whole situation than he was openly letting on. She knew she should be annoyed by that (he wasn't the one who was going to have to deal with her brothers), but the invigoration draught was working beautifully for all Hermione's assertions that it wasn't perfect, and she found her mood much improved as her energy rose.

On the bright side, Charlie will be there; that should be fun, she thought. Drunk Charlie was a legend and one of Wizarding London's more well-known secrets, one which she had never personally witnessed in action. She knew it was worth seeing, though, due to the fact that her mother still had no idea that Charlie had ever drunk more than a glass of wine here, a butterbeer there. For a secret like that to be kept from the sharp-eyed, keen-eared Mrs. Weasley required a great deal of orchestration, unity between siblings and witnesses, and possibly an Obliviate spell or two.

Apparently, the last time he'd been in town, he'd set the tavern on fire (trying to stoke up the hearth so that they could all feel "how hot we have to keep it for the dragons in Romania"), stumbled through a wall (in his defense, Bill said it was a very thin wall), and found an unfortunately inebriated goblin, which he insisted on carrying around with him for half the night, calling it his little buddy, until it managed to sober up enough to escape his thick-armed grasp ("Not really improving goblin-human relations, is he?" Ron was heard to remark dryly). This was all hearsay, of course, but Ginny found herself rather excited at the idea of seeing Charlie's exploits firsthand. This would likely be the last chance she'd have for a while—his semi-annual visit to England to see his family would only last a few more days, and then he'd be headed back to Romania and his much-beloved dragons.

"Look at you." Draco interrupted her train of thought, and she glanced over to see that his smile had taken on smirkish qualities. "Your eyes just completely lit up."

"It's the potion," she said, flipping the flask bottoms up and finishing the last of it at the reminder.

"No. I think you're actually happy about this," he said, that blasted smirk widening. "You don't mind a jot that they're going to rake you over the coals; you're just thrilled to be joining your brothers on drinking night."

She scowled, standing. "Thanks for reminding me about the coals. I was trying to focus on the bright side."

"There's a bright side?" he wondered as she approached him and tugged lightly at his hands, trying to get him up. He didn't budge, of course, preferring to let her pull away with no results.

"Possibly, if you let me forget about their real purpose for two seconds." She glowered in response to his complete lack of cooperation, locked her hands around his wrists, and with an almighty heave, jerked him onto his feet. He was laughing as he lost his balance, stumbling into her.

"I forget how strong you are, Weasley. You're too pretty for the good of those around you; makes everyone underestimate you," he said as he got an arm around her, steadying them both.

"Good," she said, chin jutting out stubbornly as she threw her hair back and craned her neck to look up at him, willfully ignoring the backhanded compliment. "Serves them right for making assumptions. It's time for you to go."

"I call that friendly."

"Oh, shut it, I'm just looking out for you again. If you want to wait around for my brothers, be my guest."

She watched his face for a second, the mocking frown as he weighed the tempting prospect of taunting her brothers against the considerable odds that he'd be leaving with swollen ears, pink hair, torn flesh, or some other battle scar. Finally, he shrugged lazily and gave her another smirk. "Suppose you're right. If you need help, send up red sparks."

She snorted. "Sure. Just look for the pub that looks like it's celebrating Guy Fawkes Night early. There'll just be a massive cloud of sparks hovering over the roof and I'll be curled up in a corner somewhere, rocking back and forth, traumatized."

"You're resilient. You'll be fine."

She was going to say "Thank you for being so sympathetic," but he didn't exactly give her the option, deciding that her mouth would be better suited at the moment pressed up against his. Ginny yielded—they could argue later, but if the planned night in with her boyfriend wasn't going to happen, then she was going to take advantage of her last couple of minutes with him before her brothers came in to whisk her away.

Of course, with the way he kissed her, it was far too easy to lose track of time, and despite the fact that they couldn't afford to do that at the moment, she found herself getting slightly lost in him regardless. With a jolt, she suddenly realized that they'd whittled away several more minutes, and she broke away, planting her hands on his chest to push him back. "Whoa! No! None of that, Draco Malfoy, unless you want to get blasted through the window when my brothers arrive. You need to go."

"Well, that teaches me to try and be nice to you," he said, making her laugh even as she spun him around and pushed him towards the door.

"Go," she said again, and without further argument or distraction, he obeyed.

He left just in time. A bare minute after he waved up at her from the street and took off, she spotted her brothers' familiar ginger heads from the window—Ron, looking as grim as though he was walking to his own execution, and George, cheerful and with a spring in his step.

Ginny sighed and sank back into her seat. She was feeling considerably better due to the potion, and certainly there was a part of her that was excited by the prospect of going out with her brothers, but the gravity of the situation was inescapable. She was in for a bullying session, and she knew that this was her first and best chance to convince them that yes, she was in her right mind, and yes, the relationship was both serious and healthy. She'd have other chances, true, but perhaps none as significant as this, none where she could get all of her brothers in one blow.

She took a deep breath. "Hermione?"

"Yes?" her sister-in-law called from down the hall.

"Thanks for the warning. And the potion."

Hermione, at once managing to sound modest and entirely disapproving, said, "You're welcome."

When her brothers finally appeared in her office, Ginny was ready for them.


A/N - Next up- the Weasley siblings reunite and begin drinking and storytelling. Ron is surly. Ginny is defensive. Bill, Charlie, and George are amused. Percy is late.

In case anyone was wondering, the cover features Karen Gillan as Ginny and Harry Lloyd as Draco- not to put down the performances by Bonnie Wright and Tom Felton, but Karen and Harry were vastly helpful in helping me visualize adult versions of these two favorites of mine, and they certainly helped me step away from thinking of them in terms of Hogwarts years (not to mention that I think Karen Gillan perfectly fits the description of Ginny and Harry Lloyd's smirks are extremely quality, not to mention the aristocratic bone structure- aaand I'm gonna stop). At any rate, please don't read and run! If you enjoyed it, review! If you didn't enjoy it, review! If you have any suggestions/corrections/bones to pick with me, review! I'll thoroughly appreciate any effort on your part to encourage, comment, and/or assist, and I'll do my best to respond. Now, I'm off to work on a couple of other projects. You know what to do.