George
I didn't ask for this job – not exactly. There I was, visiting Dad at work, and somehow I was drawn into a lengthy discussion of how to treat the children of Death Eaters – what to do with them. Merlin only knows why Arthur Weasley was having lunch with the Head of the Department of Post-War Community Rebuilding and Reorganizing (They really ought to shorten that title. What a mouthful). And then, even odder, by the end of the meal I had gone ahead and been coerced into volunteering to lead a group for the freaking Voldemort Youth. No bloody idea why I was the best candidate. Honestly, what did I know about these people? I was raised to be accepting of Muggles, taught that blood and money and status don't matter. How could we get along?
So it was with much trepidation that I arrived to the first meeting – nearly an hour early, I was so nervous – an hour spent equivocating on whether or not I was at all qualified to do this. Circe, if only I'd had Fred with me. He'd balance me out, his boisterous nature somehow keeping me calm; he'd be certain that we could do it, together, and I'd believe him, and soon the whole meeting would be laughs and Moldy Voldie jokes.
Attendance was compulsory for the children of convicted Death Eaters and other war criminals, but anyone else could join as well. We don't get many of the latter. No one wants to bum around with Death Eaters.
That first week – and for many following weeks – there was only one person whose attendance was optional. Luna Lovegood glided in, the first person there, looking around at all the empty seats very curiously. It's easy to forget she was captured, locked in Malfoy's dungeons, and tortured on a regular basis. She acts mostly the same – maybe a bit creepier, but honestly, she's always been a bit off. Sweet, but bonkers. Malfoy tries his best not to look at her – out of shame, perhaps? That is encouraging for the reform I'm supposed to be affecting, I suppose. But maybe he's just uncomfortable because she likes to look at him so intently. Sometimes it even gives me the willies.
When 7:00 rolled around and not a single person was there besides me and Luna, I was brassed off. Did they think this was a joke? Just because an infamous prankster – if I do say so myself – was leading the group did not mean that they weren't to take it seriously. I resolved to wait around for fifteen minutes; if they weren't there by then, I was reporting the lot of them to the Ministry, and then washing my hands of the whole business.
But as soon as the hand on the clock went to 7:15, they were all there, hoards of them walking in the door at the same time. The lot of them, fashionably fucking late.
They all sat down in the Muggle plastic folding chairs, distaste evident on every sullen face. They didn't want to be there? Well too damn bad.
As they all sat, I stood, ready to speak but unsure of what to say any longer. Why hadn't I prepared a speech? But I'd never had any problem with improv in the past, I reasoned. Luna spoke up before I could say anything. "He looks very angry," she observed. "Perhaps it's the Boomdigger Spurts. They come out during autumn, you know."
Theodore Nott snorted indelicately. "Still pretty bloody Loony, eh, Lovegood?" he sneered.
Luna turned to him, a calculating look on her face. "I may believe in Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, but you devoted your life to following a hypocritical madman who would have killed you and your family just as soon as he'd have killed Harry Potter. So it looks like you are just a little bit Loony, yourself, Nott."
The other man paled as Luna turned back to me, and I grinned a little crookedly. "Hear, hear, Luna. Listen up, you lot. I know you don't want to be here. You have House Elves to torture and balls to plan. But if you want to keep your big posh houses and your loaded Gringotts vaults, you're going to have to spend at least an hour with me every week. And you're going to be on time. I don't care that you want to seem above attending these functions. You aren't, says the Ministry and your past actions. So maybe we should try to get along."
This was met with a wall of blank stares, and I opened my mouth, frustrated, but Luna leaned forward, excited. "We should start by introducing ourselves!" she suggested. "I'm Luna Lovegood. I'm 18, I was a Ravenclaw, and I'm not a Death Eater. Oh, but I was imprisoned in Draco's dungeon for a few months," she added as an afterthought. "I suppose that's mostly why I decided to come."
More blank stares from the rest of the group. I took a deep breath to calm myself. "I'm George Weasley. I'm 21, I was a Gryffindor, a Beater, and I lost my twin at the Battle of Hogwarts. I am also not a Death Eater."
Their collective silence continued, but soon Astoria Greengrass rolled her eyes and put her hand in the air. "You seem to be under the impression that we have all done something criminal. Many of us have done nothing other than be born. Our parents – mine and Daphne's – supported the Dark Lord financially, yet did not dirty their hands in any other way. They are in Azkaban for this, for the next two years, as is Parkinson's father and countless others. They did not torture Muggles or raid villages or fight against you bloody saviors at Hogwarts. So while maybe Malfoy and Nott and Goyle have some 'past actions'" – she illustrated her comment with air quotes – "to atone for, the rest of us are, for the most part, victimized for our neutrality. I'm Astoria Greengrass, I'm 17, I'm about to graduate from Hogwarts as a proud, neutral Slytherin, and I'm not a Death Eater either, damnit."
The group stared challengingly at me as I tried to take her speech in stride. "Thanks for enlightening us. I apologize for assuming that you're all evil bastards, despite your lack of interest in any sort of moral code," I said drily. "You're all misguided children. Fine. You still have to be on time."
The rest of the group introduced themselves as well, but that was all that we accomplished that evening. Draco Malfoy was the last to speak. "I'm Draco Malfoy, as you all know. I'm 19, I was a Slytherin, and I'm not sure why I'm not in Azkaban. What are we going to do at these meetings?"
A damn good question, I thought. "Meet here next week, and I'll have something by then," I promised. I don't think they liked that answer, but they'd have to put up with it anyway.
"Trust the Ministry to improvise on something like this," Daphne Greengrass muttered bitterly.
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Pansy
We all showed up precisely at 7:00 the next week; Lovegood and Weasley were already there, once again, this time chatting animatedly about Muggle moving pictures. "Oh, and the Matrix just came out a few months ago, I wanted to see that, that could provoke quite the interesting dialogue on Muggle machines," Loony – Luna – was saying.
"Are we going to go see a Moo V.?" I asked, fairly certain that I had the name correct. I was curious, though I'd never admit it. They had sounded fascinating when I'd overheard Finch-Fletchley telling Susan Bones about them.
The rest of the group behind me seemed wary. "We don't have Muggle money," they'd started to protest. And "Won't that take longer than an hour?"
Weasley cut them off. "Yeah, we aren't going tonight. But sometime in the future we will. I'm going to acclimate the hell out of you lot, and that's a promise. Soon you'll be singing the Muggles' praises."
I watched Draco become even paler, and I snickered at the thought of Lucius Malfoy's reaction to his son exploring the Muggle world with a Weasley.
"So what are we going to do tonight?" Nott asked.
"Nothing so scandalous, don't worry, my little snakes," George said, chuckling at himself. "We're just going to have a drink and chat."
We did so that week and for the next few weeks, at first in private and then in the Leaky Cauldron.
Talking didn't come easily to us. Even with the alcohol soaring through our bloodstreams, Slytherins were a tight-lipped sort. That second meeting, we predictably sat awkwardly – well, gracefully, but with an awkward air about the group – and as all of my friends know, I loathe predictability.
"Never have I ever had a sex dream about Draco," I said. They all stared at me, disconcerted, before realizing what I was doing. Astoria and Luna drank, both entirely unabashed. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Goyle reach towards his glass, but then he snatched his hand back. I smirked.
"I've never performed fellatio," Luna said next. I wasn't even sure Goyle knew what fellatio was, but I'd probably rather not see his response anyway. Every other female at the table drank without hesitation, including Millicent, which I found exceptionally strange, as I would have bet all of the money in my vault that she fancied birds.
Luckily, George's mind was on the same track that mine was, so he asked the question for me. "Oi, Millie, what's your girlfriend think of you performing fellatio?" he mimed Luna's proper intonation.
The look on her face told me we did not want to know her answer, but there was no time to stop her. "She understands that sometimes you need to do unsavory things when you're forced into subservience for Death Eaters," she said quietly. Everyone at the table looked stricken. After a pregnant pause, she added, "Plus, now I know for certain that I prefer muff, eh?" I laughed for her. Millicent hated tension. As everyone else chuckled with us, I saw the look of triumph on Weasley's face before Theo changed the subject. I think he was proud that we were starting to open up. Hell, I was proud. Perhaps we could be real people after all.
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Ginny
Living as I was in the twins' flat – in Fred's room, as we still called it – it didn't take long to notice that George went missing every Monday night.
At first I thought it was happenstance, but I knew my brothers; I knew George. Every move he made was deliberate. He had been the plans to Fred's action and without his twin, he still thought as quickly but he moved slower, every step precise.
I started to pay closer attention – was this his night to mourn Fred? Did he have a girl to meet? A longstanding business arrangement, perhaps?
None of these seemed likely. He mourned Fred every day, every act an homage to his fallen brother, his other half. And he stays out far too late for the latter.
Yet I didn't think he was meeting a girl, either. My instinct told me otherwise, and he showed no sign of the relief, however brief, that a regular sexual meeting would cause. Yet he also did not seem to be exhibiting any of the symptoms of a full relationship, either.
So I poked around into his business a little, I'll admit it. None of our family members, nor Angelina or any of his other friends saw him on Monday nights either.
I did the only thing I could. I followed him. I told him I was running to the market when I knew it was about time for him to leave, and then I skulked in shadows of the nearby alley, my hood up over my hair.
To my surprise, he strode right out of Diagon Alley and into Muggle London. I immediately regretted the robes and cloak that made me far too conspicuous, wondering why I hadn't thought of that before. Luckily, the pub that was George's destination was only a block down, and I rushed past it and into the next alley, away from prying, Muggle eyes, remorsefully Banishing my cloak before quickly Transfiguring my robe so that it took on the style of a Muggle dress.
I then equivocated for a moment before deciding to Glamour myself – black hair, light grey eyes, empty ivory skin. I fancied I might look a little like Sirius. I cursed myself for not yet learning how to change the shapes of my features, hoping beyond hope that without the Weasley hair, no one would suspect a thing.
Upon entering the pub, I headed straight to the bar and sat at the end of it, in the corner, and ordered a glass of wine, which I nursed as I looked around.
Although the room was not terribly crowded, it took me a while to locate my brother – probably because I expected him to be alone, for some reason. But his hair was a big flashing signal, so I found him soon enough.
I recognized his drinking buddies much sooner – he was sitting between Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson, and as if that wasn't bloody well odd enough for me, next to Parkinson sat Luna, and the dozen or two others crowded around, hastily pushing tables together, were other Death Eating sycophants. I watched them for a while, becoming more and more disbelieving and angry. Before I even realized it, I had risen from my seat and started marching towards them, ready to self-righteously demand an explanation.
I was halfway to them when I came to myself, my ire at seeing Malfoy smile – what right has he to smile at my brother? – abating slightly. It was enough, at least, that I could alter my footsteps, because this was George, and I knew him, didn't I? And I knew Luna, too, and surely they had to have excellent reasons for consorting with Death Eater scum, didn't they? Moreover, the smile on George's face as he laughed at – or, is it possible, with? – Parkinson was one of the brightest and most genuine I had seen on his face in the past year.
I veered into the bathroom and sat on the toilet, lowering my face to my hands as I tried to make sense of what was happening.
George was friends with Death Eaters. Okay.
No, not okay. Death Eaters killed Fred. Draco Malfoy may as well have maimed Bill himself. These were Slytherins – but Slughorn was a Slytherin, and he wasn't so bad, right? Well, okay, he was a little slimy – at least, he was no paragon of virtue. But he wasn't evil, that was certain. And Luna was there, too. Luna and George – if I couldn't trust their judgment, then where was I? No, there had to be a good reason for this all.
I breathed deeply and then exited, heading straight back to my place at the bar, failing to notice the man standing there, waiting for his drinks.
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Draco
I had felt like I was being watched from the moment this girl walked into the bar. I couldn't catch her at it, no matter how surreptitiously I glanced around, but I knew she was there, watching me. Watching us. Maybe she was a Ministry employee, checking up on our gathering. Her clothes looked authentically Muggle – or at least as far as I could tell – but she could be a Muggle-born, I supposed.
When the group needed a new round, I'd volunteered to pick the drinks up from the bar myself, and I'd headed towards the spot she had recently vacated.
The bartender was taking his damn time, but that was all for the best, I decided, as the girl headed back to her stool, a determined look on her face.
She flinched when she realized who was standing next to her, and at the look of disdain on her face, I reckoned she really must be a witch. I decided not to call her outright on it.
"Would you like to join our group?" I asked, smirking.
"No, thank you," she said primly. Her voice sounded familiar, but the next time she spoke it was an octave higher. "I'm fine right here." Her jaw was clenched. I wondered if she were trying to will me away from her.
"It can be pretty dangerous for any attractive young wi-woman to be out alone at night in a place like this," I said.
From the way her eyes flashed, I could tell she had caught the slight threat in my seemingly innocuous warning. She narrowed her eyes. "I can take care of myself," she promised.
"Perhaps you'd better leave anyway," I growled.
The disdain in her eyes grew more evident. "I don't think –"
She was cut off as George yelled, "Oi, Draco! Where are those drinks?" as he came across the room towards them. "Sorry, miss," he addressed her. "Our Draco can be a little chatty. Hope he's not bothering you."
"He was just warning me I oughtn't to go out alone," she said, smiling at George and now ignoring me completely.
George snickered. "He would know, he's one of the threats lurking in the darkness, the creep." I just rolled my eyes. "You have a good evening," George threw over his shoulder to the girl as he led me back to our table.
"She looks bloody familiar, doesn't she?" George asked as we walked.
"Yeah. She looks like Bellatrix, at least when she had that look of bloody superiority on her face."
George laughed. "Bella's long-lost Squib daughter. Oi, that's your cousin, mate, we should invite her over."
I hit him in the shoulder as we rejoined the table. "She didn't seem as if she wanted anything to do with me."
"That bint at the bar?" Goyle asked roughly, butting into our conversation. His comment pulled Lovegood into it as well.
"That's the one," I responded, taking a less-than-dignified swig from my beer.
"Well, cheer up, Draco," she began. I don't remember telling her she could use my first name. But it seemed she always had. "If it's meant to be, you'll see her again."
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Ginny
"C'mon, Abe, you can join us. We know you're broken, too." George's jesting tone belied the truth of his words.
The barkeep just grunted, depositing the tray of drinks on their table and promptly walking away, muttering, "Poncey generation and their crap-talk about emotions," he said begrudgingly. I did not blame him.
I sat at the end of the bar once again, this time my hair and most of my face covered by a blue silk shawl. I hadn't followed them here this time, but had had the strangest sense of nostalgia for Hogsmeade and had taken a day trip there on a whim. So when I saw George and his bizarre group of friends again, I covered my features and sat down, eavesdropping shamelessly.
It was surreal, hearing these positively normal things come out of the mouths of snakes. Mostly they talked about family. I hadn't had any idea that they could have had such ordinary childhoods. Sure, a lot of them had servants, and their parents had occasionally dressed them up as tiny adults and paraded them around high society, but in the day-to-day realm, they still played pranks, snitched sweets from the kitchen, snuck their broomsticks out at night.
They didn't talk much about the bad times. Occasionally I'd notice something – a catch in Goyle's voice when he reminisced on nicking a pair of blueberry pies from the Great Hall with Crabbe; Pansy's fingers trembling as she recollected their first introduction to the Slytherin Head of House. I noticed that their perfect masks were most frozen when they mentioned the parents who became Death Eaters. I noticed that Malfoy never spoke of Snape.
The third time, I followed George again. Rather than going to a pub, a restaurant, or some other entertainment venue, he went to a small building down Diagon Alley that was often used for off-grounds Ministry meetings. A small flyer was on the wall next to the door he slipped into, and as I read about the weekly meetings at 7:00pm on Mondays, I realized that George was leading a reform group. And I was proud, and confused, and saddened.
This time, I joined their group. Though not as Ginny Weasley. "Hi, I'm Gwen," I started, taking a deep breath and pushing my freshly Glamoured hair out of my temporarily freckle-free face. "I lost a brother to the Dark Lord in the Battle of Hogwarts." And my innocence to him many years before.
"Hi, Gwen," they echoed back at me.
I could feel my heartbeat accelerating when I saw Luna's penetrating gaze on me – but the blonde only winked and turned her attention back to the tea in her hands. I could breathe again. I sat, and did not speak.
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Luna
She was the girl from the bar, the one that Draco had been chatting up a few weeks ago. I wondered if he remembered her, but from the way he was looking at her, I presumed he did. I wasn't sure if he realized he was glaring at Ginny Weasley. I bet he didn't. No one can ever see through Glamours like I can. Her features are the same, though. It's just her hair colour that's mostly different. Her eyes are a good bit lighter, too, but it's mostly the hair that makes everyone else ignore the obvious, just like the Muggles do.
Or maybe it's the Wrackspurts clouding their brains. Either way, I didn't know how even George could miss it. But if she didn't want to tell, I wouldn't either. I hoped she'd be honest soon though. This isn't a place for secrets.
Ginny didn't speak for the rest of the meeting, even though everyone else was very animated. I tried to bring up topics that I knew interested her, because she'd always indulged in talks about the Blibbering Humdinger before, and I knew she loved Quidditch. But she didn't bite.
I observed her after the meeting, pouring herself a last cup of tea before heading home. She looked more diminished than she usually did. But then Draco approached her, and she threw her shoulders back, looking fierce.
But he didn't say anything rude. "I remember you," was his simple declaration.
"I'm honored," she said drily, raising an eyebrow at him.
"You're much nicer today."
"Considering I've said all of two words up until now, that's not hard to believe," she said.
I could see the surprise on her face when he laughed. "I'll see you next week," he responded, and then left.
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Blaise
I finally went to one of their damned meetings. My mother was smart enough to stay out of every political movement, and her husband at the time, a foreigner, didn't care a whit. I wasn't stupid enough to get caught up in Voldemort's reign of terror, either. So after the Death Eaters lost, I wasn't obligated to go their reform group.
At first I was glad for it, but as the weeks went by, my friends started laughing more, having more fun, talking about their meetings as if they enjoyed them. I wasn't jealous. But I was curious. Purebloods, Slytherins, bigots, going to Muggle places with a Weasley and Lovegood? Fascinating. I had to attend.
I mentioned it to Draco in passing, who mentioned that there was a new member this past week. "She seems… interesting" was all he said about her.
Apparently, Draco thinks "mute" equals "interesting." I watched her sit there, not speaking, just watching everyone else, and listening to the intimacies of their lives. Everyone kept looking at her, expecting her to speak, I think. This must not have been the first time she'd simply sat and watched the goings-on, but the group pretended not to notice that she stuck out; most probably, they'd all had quiet days, and wanted to respect hers.
Gwen left without saying anything, but when I came back the next week, she was there again, when Weasley treated everyone to a Muggle movie. It was quite enjoyable, a strange tale of an ancient Egyptian Inferius being conjured by a foolish Muggle woman; the Inferius could regenerate with each person he killed, a ridiculous but frightening concept.
The week after that, she was in attendance once again, and she looked more nervous than ever. We all headed to a Muggle pub, and as everyone spoke, she finally began to participate – in what was possibly the most embarrassing way imaginable.
Halfway through the meeting, Weasley regaled them with the story of pushing Flint into the broken Vanishing Cabinet; Gwen's eyes followed the movement of his hand to the place where his ear used to be – a motion I've come to associate with him missing his twin. I simultaneously noticed Draco's knuckles whiten as he clutched his glass. He accidentally met her eyes, and whatever she saw there broke her.
She began to cry, shaking soundlessly with emotion at every mention of an imprisoned, dead, or Kissed loved one, letting loose the tears no one else would produce. At first no one noticed, silent as she was, but slowly the knowledge made its way around the room. The others began shifting uncomfortably in their seats, some avoiding looking at her, others trying to look furtively, their eyes sweeping around the whole room rather than concentrating on her. Draco just looked and looked.
She was all cried out by the end of the session, thankfully. It was embarrassing me just to be in the same room as her. I was waiting for Draco, but he brushed past me, heading towards her. Was he really going to chat up the crazy girl? I wondered.
Of course he was. I listened in unabashedly.
I saw her face twist into many different emotions – horror, embarrassment, perplexity – as Draco approached her. She looked so comical, ready to run, her feet already angled towards the door.
He began without preamble, "I'd like to get to know you. We should go out sometime." Ah, blunt honesty. So Hufflepuff of him. Where was all the Slytherin manipulation? Had he lost everything I'd taught him?
"Why's that?" she asked. I'd say she was being coy but really she just looked confused.
He shrugged. "I'm curious about you. I mean, I normally like redheads, but Weasley's not really my type." He smirked.
She laughed uproariously at this, holding her belly and throwing her head back. Lovegood had overheard as well and let out a small giggle. I wondered what we were missing.
"How about we wait until next week, and then you let me know if you're still interested in getting to know me," she suggested when her laughter subsided. He looked baffled, but agreed.
I had to return the next week.
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George
I knew that taking this job on was a huge responsibility, but it still surprised me in the ways it manifested sometimes. Hunting Goyle down for truancy was expected, but bailing Astoria out of jail for shoplifting? That had been quite the surprising phone call. She had begged me not to tell anyone, embarrassed that she had been caught by Muggles, "of all people." I complied, though she brought it up at the next meeting anyway.
"It is not as easy as you would think!" she said angrily.
"Maybe you just did it wrong," I told her, snickering.
She sniffed indignantly. "I don't think I will test that out."
"Considering you're filthy rich, I think you'll survive," Gwen had thrown in wryly. Everyone pretended as if they didn't notice that was the first time she'd spoken to the group since her introduction; as usual, Luna was the exception.
"Oh, good, you're finally speaking with us. Are you going to tell them?" I wondered briefly what she was talking about, but then Gwen stood up and I knew we'd find out soon enough.
She took a deep breath and began to speak, running her wand over her hair and face as she did so, returning her colouring to normal. "Hi, my name is Ginny Weasley."
"'And I am not a Death Eater,'" Luna added for her.
I was stunned. I knew she had looked familiar. Honestly, how dim am I? I couldn't see my own sister. She could dye her hair and be a stranger to me.
Everyone looked to me to see how I was taking this bit of news. I was surprised, but she had every right to be there. Why did she think she had to keep it from me?
"Hi, Ginny Weasley," I responded. Everyone echoed my words.
The rest of the meeting progressed as usual, Ginny somehow fitting in seamlessly with the group. I guess it shouldn't come as a shock; Ginny had a history. She was a little dark, a little broken. As we all were.
Afterwards, I watched her approach Draco. "I told you I was partial to redheads," he told her, his smirk more prominent than ever.
"You also told me Weasleys weren't your type," she reminded him, snickering.
"As a rule, they aren't. But I can be quite the rule breaker," he said charmingly.
Ginny snorted, the classy girl. "That was so cheesy, Malfoy. As a rule, I don't date corny guys."
"I believe I remember you being a little delinquent, as well, Ginny. Maybe we could both make an exception."
She looked at him appraisingly. "Rules are made to be broken, after all."
I rolled my eyes, approaching to halt their conversation. "You can chat my sister up some other time, Draco. You know our Floo address."
"You can Floo me on Thursday," she called over her shoulder as we walked away.
We walked the short distance to our home and I could see her mood dropping with every step we took. "You don't mind that I came, do you?" she asked as we entered the flat, strangely timid.
"Of course not, why would I mind?" I put on my best "are you off your trolley?" face.
She hung her coat up slowly and then turned to face me, biting her lip. "Then why didn't you ever invite me?" she asked quietly, desperately.
That gave me pause. "What do you mean?"
She met my eyes, her gaze courageous. "I lost a brother, too, you know."
"Gin – he was…" I lacked the words to describe how I was without Fred. "I feel lopsided, and it's not because I'm missing an ear," I explained inadequately.
"Lord Voldemort lived in my head for a year. And I lost a brother, too," she repeated simply. Her face was ghostly white; her dark eyes a stark contrast.
I admired her resolve. She laughed so often and so freely that it was easy to forget that she was affected. "We could all use a lesson from you, sister."
"Laugh through the pain, that's what I always say," she murmured humorlessly.
I chuckled.
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Ginny
Our first date was a bust, and it was entirely my fault. There we were, wandering around a vineyard after a lovely wine- and cheese-tasting. He was being considerate and kind. But because I was tactless, I had to cut to the quick.
"So, why did you become a Death Eater?" I asked rudely, interrupting the companionable silence that we had been sharing.
"Don't believe in taking it slow, do you, Weasley?" he said sharply, running a hand through his fine blonde hair. He didn't say anything else, obviously hoping I would have the sense not to push the issue.
I had the grace to blush, but I didn't apologize, and I didn't stop. "It's just so unfathomable to me," I told him, more than a bit sanctimoniously.
"I honored my mother and father. They knew what was right for us, so I did as they did."
"You did it because daddy said so?" The scorn dripped out of my mouth unchecked.
He flushed angrily. "What's the difference between me propagating my father's views and you parroting yours?" he demanded.
"What are you talking about?" I scoffed.
"You joined that bloody Order because your parents were in it, didn't you?"
"That's entirely different! I put thought into my choice!" I exclaimed. "I decided on the morally right path. You just did what your parents did."
"What makes you think I hadn't thought it out and chosen that which was ethically sound, myself?" he countered.
"Because I know what's right!" I yelled.
"Well I knew too, you bloody wench!" he roared.
We stood there, both of us red in the face, breathing harshly, staring each other down. Then I turned with a huff, and Apparated away.
Thankfully George wasn't home when I got in. I wasn't sure how I'd react when I told him what had happened – if I even could. Honestly, I was a little ashamed. I knew he'd be worried about keeping the peace at our next meeting.
Instead I Flooed Luna, hoping she could give me the perspective I needed.
"Wotcher," she said cheerfully, plopping onto the carpet in front of her fireplace immediately.
"Hi, Luna. Look, I've made a mess of things." As I began to explain my date with Malfoy, another figure came into view and lowered itself gracefully onto its knees.
"Parkinson?" I asked, astonished. "What are you doing over there?"
"We were having dinner!" Luna chirped.
"Luna and I are friends, Weasley. Surely if you can date a Slytherin, I can share a meal with a Ravenclaw. Please, don't let me interrupt like you did to us," she said, her voice charming.
I blushed. "Sorry," I muttered before resuming my story. When I finished explaining our argument, Pansy rolled her eyes.
"Red, you have been attending these meetings for too long to be so black-and-white! You have got to understand, Draco was doing what he thought was best for his family. They would have died if he hadn't. It wasn't simply follow the Dark Lord or don't, and go on with your life. It was follow and live, or rebel and die. And Slytherins, above all else, are survivors. You can't fault him for doing his best to keep himself and his family safe, however misguided the ideals may have been."
"But Dumbledore offered him a hiding place! Harry told me so!" I cried. "They could have defected then."
"Weasley," she said, her voice surprisingly patient. "Imagine that all of your friends and relatives, for as long as you could remember, had talked about what a nut Albus Dumbledore was. You were told that you were special, and that the other side wanted to make you less special. Imagine you couldn't see the resistance, and all you saw was the terrorizing. It always looked like the Dark Lord was winning. And when Dumbledore offered you protection, he was weak and wandless. How likely would you be to run to his aid?"
"Not bloody likely," I admitted grudgingly.
"It's fascinating to see from another person's point of view, isn't it, Ginny?" Luna said cheerfully. "These Slytherin girls are so insightful sometimes!" When I did not respond, she added, "Sounds like you have an apology to make."
"You sound like my bloody mum," I muttered harshly, withdrawing from the Floo with a hasty goodbye.
.
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Pansy
After that Floo call, I was awaiting the next week's meeting with a devilish delight. I couldn't wait to see how the ill-fated romance would play out.
I was even early – Circe, people would start to think I wanted to be there or something! I'd popped over to the cinema to pick up a bag of popcorn, and was anxious for the entertainment to begin so I could take it out. If I did so too soon, Goyle would sit by me when he came in, and I'd hardly have a kernel left for myself.
When everyone had come and seated themselves, Blaise on my left and Luna settling airily on my other side, the chatter started as normal, and I began to get impatient, tapping my foot against the ground as I glared at Ginny.
She looked back at me in surprise, first, and then in anger. "What am I supposed to do?" she mouthed.
I gestured at Draco's stiff form. He wasn't paying any attention to anyone.
She huffed and crossed her arms against her chest, turning her head away from him.
Goyle spoke up. "Is it just me, or is the air right thick tonight?"
Luna chimed in. "That's because Ginny is too stubborn to start the conversation, even though she knows she's wrong, and Draco is too vain to do so." They both glared at her. I munched happily on my popcorn, offering some to Blaise, who took it absentmindedly as he gazed at Ginny.
"15 Galleons on reconciliation," he whispered to me.
"Ha! You're on, Zabini. My money's on Draco being so mean to her that she breaks down and never comes back."
"Don't be silly," Luna chimed in quietly. "Ginny's much too pigheaded for that, remember? Besides, they're meant to be."
Blaise looked sideways at her. "Why do you say that?"
She looked at us in surprise. "You don't feel it?" was all she said.
"Well, what happened?" Theo asked.
The two of them continued not speaking, but Daphne chimed in. "My guess is: their date fell apart because they were too obdurate to overcome their respective backgrounds, even though that's what these meetings have been for."
Silence for a moment. "Well, is that true, Ginny?" Goyle asked.
She swallowed. "Yes. I handled it very poorly," she admitted, then looked to Draco, who finally looked in the direction of the conversation.
"Yes, you did," he agreed. She began to scowl, and he huffed. "I also could have been a little more understanding."
"Even though she was being so condescending, Draco?" I asked, egging them on.
"Don't be mean, Pansy!" Luna said, nudging me.
"She's just upset that she's going to lose 15 Galleons." Blaise smirked, speaking so that only we could hear him.
"You do not get any more popcorn!" I cried, pulling the bag back to myself.
He snickered. "That's going from your lips to your hips, darling," he warned me.
I hit him upside the head before turning my attention back to Ginny, who was staring at Draco, who was glaring at the back of the room.
"I'm sorry," she finally said softly, rising from her chair and leaving. Draco finally looked at her.
Everyone was quiet for a minute, and then – "Well, aren't you going to follow her?" Astoria asked, glaring at him pointedly.
He rose from his seat, nose in the air, and exited elegantly.
George waited about thirty seconds before plunging into his pockets and pulling out a handful of flesh-coloured strings. "All right, you nosy bastards, let's give it a listen."
"I don't know why I ever thought that it was a good idea!" Draco was fuming. I could imagine him pacing back and forth in front of her as she glared darkly at him.
But her response surprised me. "It was a good idea, Draco!" she said passionately. Apparently her zeal had been transferred onto their fledgling relationship. "Look," she said placatingly. "I was wrong. I'm sorry. I understand that you did what you had to do."
He didn't say anything, but I imagined her walking closer to him enticingly. "Give me another try, Draco? I had a really good time prior to my idiocy."
"You are an idiot," he agreed, but he sounded appeased.
Then there was silence, and I walked to the door to peer out, wondering what was going on. I was met with a sickening sight: Ginny was pressing herself to him, her arms wrapped around his neck; one of Draco's hands entangled in her hair while the other held her at the waist. "They're snogging," Luna reported duly. Everyone cheered. Blaise held his hand out for his payment.
"Can't you just be happy that our friends are happy?" I asked him slyly.
"Nope," he said blithely. I just sighed.
.
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Draco
My girl had been acting really bloody odd all week. I'll be the first to admit it (at least to myself, if to no one else), I get a little irritable around my birthday. I had come to expect a large horde of long-lost relatives coming around, plying me with insincerities, reminding me that my end is nearing. Gifts had no meaning to me. I could buy anything I wanted at any time. And the emotions – egads, I did not need any old biddies crying about how much I've grown, or how alike Lucius and I look. And really, people should be celebrating my life at all times, not just one day a year. I didn't need another special occasion without my father.
So when the cards came flying in, I started getting a little tetchy. But I tried hard for Ginny. A shock, I know. But, as I had learned over the past 5 months, she was a Birthday Person. She loved all the trappings of a good birthday: party, cake, ice cream, decorations, gifts. I knew this, because I had witnessed her preparing celebrations for two of her brothers, Luna, and Pansy, and they had been some of the most extravagant, underfunded events I'd ever been coerced into attending.
But I calmly told her that I did not want any fuss, that I'd like to spend the evening with our friends, like every other Monday, after which we could go back to my flat and she could put on one of those damnable lacey confections she knew I'd love. I could unwrap her, and that was the only gift I'd need.
She pouted. Her eyes got all wide, and her lip jutted out, and she said "But, Draco…"
I scowled at her, and she pouted further. "You're no fun," she accused.
"Sure I am," I countered cajolingly. "Meet me in the bedroom in two minutes and I'll show you just how much fun I can be."
She punched me in the arm. "Ouch, woman, watch it," I whined, rubbing the spot that was sure to bruise.
"Please, Draco, please?" she begged. I contemplated all the ways I could use this to my advantage. But to have to put up with all the birthday crap –
"Gin, I just don't like birthdays, okay? You know this."
She exhaled deeply. "Fine," she responded after a moment, disappointment written all over her features.
I was surprised that she hadn't brought it up again, but my birthday arrived without much fanfare on her end. She woke me up with her tongue doing delightful things to my body, and then brought me breakfast in bed, but I could hardly complain about that. If this was all my birthdays contained from now until forever, I would be happy.
We both took the day off work and spent it eating and lounging around in bed. We stopped the festivities only when 7:00 rolled around. She practically dragged me out of the door, and that was when I began to get apprehensive.
"What's your hurry, Gin?" I asked her, narrowing my eyes at her in suspicion.
She turned to look at me, eyes wide and innocent. "You know I don't like to be cooped up inside all day," she said convincingly.
I nodded, somewhat mollified but still wary, and followed her into the pub to meet the group.
"Why is it so bloody dark in here?" I asked, frustratedly pulling out my wand. "Lumos!"
Two dozen crackers went off, and Ginny yelled, "Surprise!" She kissed me full on the mouth to stem my protest, and then whispered menacingly against my lips, "Be a very good boy."
I put on my best false smile. "Wow, thanks," I began, but I could tell that even Goyle could hear how fake I was.
"Don't worry, Draco," Luna said. "Ginny told us to continue treating you like the prat you are, just while eating cake. I don't know why we had to yell surprise for that, but she says you had it coming for being so grouchy all week."
"I don't know how you thought you'd keep her from doing something special for your 20th birthday, Draco," George said, snickering. "You're daft."
Ginny giggled, and kissed me on the cheek, then pulled back slightly and murmured, "No overt emotions, check. No gifts, check. No long-lost relatives, check. Happy birthday, boyfriend."
I turned and kissed her once again, tightening my hand in her hair and whispering ominously, "Just you wait. You've got another thing coming."
She shivered in anticipation. "I can't wait."
.
...
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Original Prompt:
Briefly describe what you'd like to receive in your fic: I'd love a fic that mostly centers on our favorite characters, the other Slytherins, and those other dark/would-be-dark (but are misguided?) characters. Something that could have happened after book 7 (not AU). Young or old Ginny and Draco, with or without children. A little heart-wrenching, a little sad, a little positive, and a lot of difficult choices and past mistakes.
The tone/mood of the fic: Complicated, emotional, maybe even dark
An element/line of dialogue/object you would specifically like in your fic: A frozen puddle, a willow tree, blue silk (something)
Preferred rating of the the fic you want: The higher the better
Canon or AU? As canon as possible (but the epilogue of doom can be ignored)
Deal Breakers (anything you don't want?): rape, incest, overly sentimental Draco, whiny Ron or Harry, too much fluff