Mediocrity

The two of them walked up the hill, Blonde and Redhead, Boy and Girl that and so much more between them as far as diffrences go. Neither exchanged a word, no glances were caught between them and she was fine with that. She usually went for her ride alone and quiet was expected and appreciated. He didn't talked or acknowledged her when she flew around and looped about on her own either; and when she handed off her broomstick to him he neither gracefully nor rudely accepted. It was okay, she thought to herself, she hadn't offered him a ride on her broomstick to talk to him, she offered because he probably needed it even more than she did, and she was right. She watched him fly and he looked, not happy but as if for the first time in a while things weren't bad.Things weren't good or even okay yet, but usually when he was walking around his face was hung with misfortune and bitter resignation. When he came back down she almost smiled at him, but caught herself, she doubted he would take well to a pitiance like a smile. she couldn't imagine what he was feeling, because he didn't tell anyone what he was going through. She couldn't tell if he needed sympathy or not, but regardless the flying seemed to take the weight off something.

The silence remained, neither of them said or did anything, they just alternated use of her broom silently. It was a peaceful, strangely enjoyable interaction. They would have kept going that way too, if Mrs. Weasley hadn't called them in to lunch.

After lunch though, was when it started. After helping her mother clean up Ginny considered and promptly afterwards decided to look around for Draco. She generally flew in the morning and that was it, but during the meal she had stolen glances at Draco and though he hadn't opened up at all during flying he looked, somehow, even more closed off once back in the Burrow.

If he would accept, she would take him out for another ride. She found him up in his room (they, the family, had considered rooming him with Ron and Harry but it immediately was apparent that that was a bad idea) he was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling; it was almost all she ever saw him do. She always just wrote him off as wasting his time, it had never occurred to her before that day, that maybe he didn't have anything better to be doing. What did he actually HAVE to do? Guilt ate at her insides for being insensitive to his obvious lack of interaction. With a house full of children, she never considered it possible to miss human interaction; then again, she never had it quite like Malfoy.

She knocked lightly and stood in the doorway, not wanting to enter his space with out permission she asked softly "I'm going back up to the field, want another go?" she liked him more and disliked him less when he was flying, and got the feeling he liked her a little too when he was flying. It seemed like a good situation to be in. He looked at her and gave her an empty smile that was a false front he obviously put up a lot in his life. It wasn't an offensive false front it was just an awkward acceptence of her offer. Ginny however just grinned at his icy demeanor and cocked her head towards the door.

"Sure." He nodded and got up and followed her out, he wasn't extraordinarily surprised looking, but Ginny had been around him enough at least to know not to judge his emotions on his face. Cause his face only screamed sociopath.

Sure enough, after five minuets of walking, not exactly next to him, he said, "Thank you." He was looking at her not with a look of thanks but a look that said, 'I'm talking to you.' and nothing more.

"No one who loves to fly ought to be kept down for so long. Even a prick like you." She responded truthfully; it might make him uncomfortable but if they were going to be in each others company, and for all intents and purposes, become friends, there were some definatre roadblocks they needed to get over. His personality would do for a start.

He had a small twitch in the corner of his mouth and she took that for the beginning of a real smile. They kept walking, now side by side. A few more minuets and he eyed her, "I'm not a bad guy—you know." he said, off-handily but masked from any seriousness that was underlying.

"Yea right!" she grinned at him to show she didn't believe a word he said but didn't care anyways.

"I'm serious…" he said slightly affronted, "I mean I might have my…"

"Evil side?" she helped with a sarcastic snort.

"I was going to say less than perfect." he raised an eyebrow.

She laughed a little and caught his gaze again and sighed, "Look Malfoy, it really doesn't matter to me, and its not as if It think you're all bad, really, that's why I let you on my broom." She said reassuringly, "But," she went on a little more seriously, "I might trust you, but I don't believe that… you've completely turned sides." She admitted.

It even sounded harsh when she said it; she tried to make him understand without being offended. "I mean, that's like saying I'd go help the dark lord and kill Harry Potter. It's not that I think you'll turn on us and go back… there. I just think it's more likely that you're neutral and know that we protect that rather then punish that." She said bluntly with a look that said if he wanted her to think otherwise he'd have to prove it. The jury was still out on him, she didn't expect much. And by that she meant she thought the best of him, and though she didn't expect him to do any huge acts of heroism, she didn't expect him to turn and do any evil either.

"You don't think I could do it?" he asked softly, not offended, not hurt just honestly asking. "You think this is all a protection game?"

She looked at him. She didn't need to be nice to him.

"I don't think you could do it." Was all she said in response. It was true, she liked him. He rarely talked and when he did she wasn't always thrilled with the things that came out of his mouth and it wasn't like he was Mr. humanitarian but she didn't think he was a bad person. Just the likelihood of a lifetime of allegiances being turned in a mere few months seemed absurd. Even if it were possible she wasn't sure she could trust someone who so quickly changed their beliefs.

They'd reached the pitch and she, not rudely, mounted her broom and made a few loops around the field. When she came back down, he was staring right at her the whole way down, and when she got off her broom he was face to face with her. He wrapped his hand around the extended broom but didn't take it from her quite yet "I could." Was all he said. She looked at him, and he was all determination. Maybe it just seemed so intense because his face was usually void of anything but it still was a fierce look.

"Alright." Her response was automatic and she wasn't sure where exactly it had come from. She didn't know why she'd said it but she did know that it was true. She didn't think it would be immediate or loud but she believed that he would not only stand on their side, but eventually fight as well.

There was never a definitive ending and beginning, nor was there a definitive ending place or beginning place either, so we'll begin somewhere in the middle. It was just the two of them—something you couldn't measure in time or place. How did they start; it started with the end of Hogwarts and that era of their lives. When he and she both graduated from Hogwarts, picking a side was crucial to every ex-student. He picked her side, to the world he abandoned his family, his friends and the allegiances that he'd held true too for years, for what? To most, it still wasn't clear. After all that was said and done he was welcomed, perhaps not with wide open arms but welcome none the less, into the Orders fold. It wasn't clear why he'd done it to begin with, but a general cautious trust was put up for the youngest Malfoy. Children, it had already been decided, should never have been involved of acts of war, he should not seek their forgiveness, and they should have sought his.

The Order roomed him and fed him with the rest and most everyone held back from outwardly ostracizing, but no one put themselves on the line to befriend him. He didn't really have a problem with that. He'd chosen their side because he could not choose that which his family had pursued. He wasn't there to make friends or family, he was there because as much as he'd hate to admit it, he had no where else to go.

Even with a turned leaf and a new life, regardless of what Malfoy did he was rich, rich in attitude, rich in pretentious airs and still, forever, rich in gold. Family inheritance could not be stopped by broken bonds and when Draco turned 17, half of the Malfoy fortune automatically became his, regardless of his allegiance.

Their worlds might have seemed too different but in the end they ended up needing each other. Malfoy needed someone that cared, that could let go of all the crap, the preconceptions, his family, the icy front he put up and just give him a blank slate; and Ginny, no matter how much she would impress that she really didn't need anyone, needed something important in life that wasn't family. Without knowing it then, mostly she needed a friend.

More than occasionally they pushed each others buttons, her brusque and often blunt demeanor irritated him at best; and he pushed her buttons right back, his unknowingly haughty and pretentious airs bothered her but it was his naiveté and lack of understanding of the not so subtle differences in their life-styles that really drove her mad. That's where they were, rough around the edges and naïve.

The war had barely come to head; some called that time the beginning of the war, others who had seen a much too familiar beginning saw it as a second start. Neither of them was very much involved in whatever that time was. People all around seem preoccupied and overwhelmed but there didn't seem to be a place for the two. Even in their eagerness to be involved. That is perhaps why they were so important for each other to find. They were never supposed to get romantically involved though; it would have been too easy to ruin everything, and she knew it—maybe he didn't though, or maybe, he really did.

The setting and the times've changed and now it is two years after she graduated. Living in London near Saint Mungo's where she pull's herself out of bed and presents herself at everyday. Ginny loved being a healer, she loved helping and interacting with people, only the hours were long and especially on days she double-shifted, she had to remind herself that this is what she loved. Double-shift meant that she didn't come trudging back home until seven o'clock in the evening. And this particular evening, perhaps it would have been more fortunate, for both of them, if she hadn't dragged herself home so promptly. She dutifully, to herself, did though and finally getting to her apartment and fumbling with the stubborn, half broken latch—she was home. Whispering a few quick spells to light and warm the place; there, sitting on her couch was an all too peppy, very hungry and expectant looking Draco Malfoy, waiting for his dinner.

With a long groan and a deflated banging of her head against the now closed door she mumbled, "Evening Malfoy." managing only a not so pleasant, none too happy voice.

He did this often, too often really. Deciding, when he didn't want to go out to eat—he was too much of a bachelor to actually know how to prepare anything in the way of edibles on his own—he would come skulking in, half grinning and not ask but flawlessly mooch food from her and her kitchen; making it her personal duty to keep him nourished.

She really did care about his state, she reflected, and deep down knew if she didn't feed him he wouldn't eat. He was like that and Ginny knew it. So no matter how tired or resentful, almost every night, Ginny found herself in the kitchen cooking something he would hopefully enjoy. It was like having a kid, a very adult, very snotty kid.

He didn't say a word, but grinned at her from her couch. She ignored him and proceeded to the kitchen. She'd been through this too many times to think telling that him to go home was in any way effective. She was rarely up for his antics in the evenings and tonight he had more than just antics on his mind.

"Weasley," they were sitting down at her small table and he was lifting forkfuls of pasta to his mouth by the second, consuming very quickly what had taken her almost an hour to prepare. He was getting at something, she'd felt he'd been getting at something for days; she just didn't want to hear it tonight.

She looked up at him from the book she had not so subtly been trying to read over her dinner and half glared, half stared him down. He might be her best friend and they might get along lovely and have tons to say and talk about, but at 8 o'clock on Saturday evening she wasn't putting up with any of it.

"Be with me." he didn't ask, he just stated and stared back at her, seriously but not solemnly. He apparently would not abide by her wishes for a peaceful evening.

Her hard stare remained and the only response she let out was the raising of one eyebrow. Her eyes slid down to her book and back up again, doing a double take of him, he was still staring; his face unreadable and unflinching.

"Excuse me?"

"I love you," it was awkward but so innocent, in his mannish not romantically inclined way. She stared at him, when had he gotten so unabashed and blunt. When had his quirky sense of humor stopped being snarky. She stared at him and she realized that he wasn't rude or mean anymore, he was sometimes sarcastic but never at her expense. She had gotten to know him for who he was, not who the world thought he was, but that didn't make him a nice person. In fact, that's why the got along so well, he was snide and almost mean, but genuine; but somehow, he had genuinely stopped being mean to her. When had it stopped being normal for him to trip her walking down the hall and laugh at her instead of saying sorry and helping her up. Some time recently, was all she could remember. So she just stared at him. She knew then, that somewhere in the back of her mind she had started valuing him and their relationship above any other; she just could not remember this much of a progression.

He looked at her like she was daft, "Be with me." he said slower and a little less securely.

Finally her brain caught up to her confusion and she opened her mouth and a short harsh laugh came out. Her mind was panicking so her mouth did all it knew how to do to bide for time, yammered on like a big ass.

"It's not that easy Malfoy. I can't just be with you, even if I wanted." She grinned, let it be a joke she prayed, let it be a joke.

"Why?" he put his fork down and crossed his arms.

She stared at him and stopped half smiling; she could not believe she was having this conversation—with, apparently, her overgrown five year old son.

"I have life to take care of now." She shouldn't have to explain this to him, or justify it. He should just let it lie. It was too late, she was too tired and he was being too needy.

"Life… doesn't involve love for you? I thought of all people it would for a person like you." He gave her a knowing condescending look, like he didn't believe any of the words coming out of her mouth.

"Who… a poor person?" she joked back, not jokingly.

"God, Weasley" he wasn't condescending, he was just irritated now, "not everything is about that." He rested his arms on the table. It wasn't going to be a short pleasant evening she decided.

"No Malfoy, you don't understand, do you?" she was going to make this as quick as possible, which meant it would probably be a little more painful in the process. "It is about that. You're talking about being together, no matter that it's completely out of the blue and irrelevant-"

"-irrelevant Weasley? What does relevance have to do with any-"

"It's got to do with everything," her voice was rising, "and don't interrupt me, Malfoy! This is about it and about the difference between you and me." even if it was just her mouth yammering on to begin with, the more she heard what she was saying the more she got steamed up.

He looked at her baffled "Yes, some of life is about love," she added and waved her hand in the air to brush away the menial idea, "and a lot of thoughts, desires and dreams are about love but you know what you don't get? The little piece that you miss," she pinched her fingers close together and brought it up between them "that not everyone can just go for it, not everyone has the time, the resources or the foundation to just let love rule everything and let go of their responsibilities." She spat back. She don't know how he came into her apartment and what he thought he was doing or would happen, but she was too tired to rationalize and calm down. At the same time she was all too aware that she wasn't quite sure why she was yelling and what Malfoy had actually done to illicit this response, but he was angry none the less.

"So run away from that all Weasley. You're the only one stopping it from being important or do-able." She glared at him and he cut her off before she could open her mouth again.

"Run away with me. Seriously, why not Weasley?"

"Malfoy. You're such a prat; you're a rich spoiled prat."

He grinned at her "you don't mean brat?"

"No I mean prick." She spat back.

"Hey, why are you yelling at me?" he demanded, his eyebrows arching and his face loosing humor.

"Stop joking around Malfoy, you think that just because you have it made, no one else needs to work hard for it? Or that they're just not working hard enough? You talk about running away and being with you as if it's just an easy thing. It's not about being with you even, it's about you're disregard for everyone; drop everything in run. When will you realize that not everyone has that luxury, to be able to do that? How do I spell it out more clearly for you that you have it easy and some of us are just trying to get by." Maybe it was the long day, his incessant mooching or his obvious disregard for any soar of realities in general but draco Malfoy was really pissing her off.

"Well that is news to me Weasley; I didn't know you were such a defeatist. This doesn't wait, and not everyone gets the chance, not everyone is so lucky. You and I are lucky and it's not because I'm rich or your not. Its cause we have something that money and riches can't touch. It wouldn't matter to me if you were on the streets or in a manor. And you obviously don't care if I'm the richest man alive, I irritate you regardless." He added half jokingly but with a roll of his eyes. "This is bigger than all that silly stuff."

"Silly stuff," she snorted ungracefully, "you mean money?"

"Yea, money" he rolled his yes, "gold, the stuff you fear so badly."

"We all NEED that money Malfoy, you just never realized how much you needed it cause you always had it." Worn down a little and more exasperated. How did she tell him that it wasn't him she was mad at, it was the fact that he was making her face these realities in herself. That she couldn't be with him and that she didn't have the money. And how did her exhausted trek home and half hearted dinner become a yelling match?

He looked at her even more exasperated, "not everything is about money, and money is defiantly not more important than everything between us."

What was between them though, she wondered. Sure she loved him and in some time pictured perhaps he would be the one she would end up with, but now? What was there now, really?

"I know that; I know I never NEEDED money, but I need this more, and I think you do too. And you're just afraid. Run away with me. I don't care, my money is yours, or we can throw it all away and you're non existent money can be mine too." He grinned; apparently he was well aware of the now.

"No Malfoy, I can't just drop everything, this is how the other half lives, FACE it. Not everything no, but a lot is about money when you don't have it. And I don't just run away from my responsibility to myself. And you couldn't live a week without your money. She rolled her eyes, the sad part is, I don't think you know it."

"Fine, Weasley. Maybe I didn't do this right, maybe it was too sudden, I didn't think so but clearly you're not in the mood to talk" He wasn't grinning any more and he wasn't frowning he just looked at her like he didn't recognize her face and he walked out the door, "and you think that I'm the shallow one."

She stayed in her seat after he left and mulled in every word that had just passed. She wondered why she had reacted like that, why she had exploded so suddenly with out really letting his words in. She semi realized half way into her yelling that she wanted him to force her to be with him, because she was too prideful to admit it was what she wanted. She couldn't tell him that though, and she knew it was too much to expect him to know. What did she mean this was how the other half lived? She always knew she wanted to end up with Draco; she just wanted both of their lives to be put together and full when it happened. She didn't want to fuck up with Draco. How could she say it would have to wait?

Because it did, and even though she knew shed done right it still felt like complete shit.

He wasn't really a prat to her and they both knew it. Even when he'd just gotten out of school it had taken him months to open up to anyone, but he had, to her. He was just as abrasive and childish as he had been in school but, finally, at the end of summer, before Ginny'd returned to school they'd started to talk.

They put him up at the Burrow with the Weasleys, as the Order had no real idea where to put him. There he ate and lived with the Weasleys without really interacting or mingling with their lifestyle. At first Ron and Harry tried to excite and provoke him, but even that he just walked away from, not taking the bait and eventually they stopped. He stopped being a threat, but wasn't welcome, either in their minds.

Every weekend, when Ginny went to practice flying, she would ask him if he wanted a go on her broom up at the Weasleys makeshift Quidditich pitch. She didn't exactly care for his company or for the lack of it, but she pitied him and knew how difficult it must be to stay in her house with her brother, and having to leave everything he knew behind. He hadn't been able to take any of his possessions with him yet and that not flying must have driven him crazy. It was on the weekend he finally accepted her offer on that they started to talk.

This is where the time of their story starts to loop back to the beginning; where we started. After remembering their odd beginning Ginny, still sitting at her now lonely dinning room table dropped her head onto the table with a bang—hitting herself in the head cause of Draco Malfoy for the second time that evening. What was wrong with her; why couldn't se let herself be with him? Everyone around her knew it was inevitable, she just thought it would be later. Later, everything would happen later. It was incredible how much he'd changed. He was still an arrogant prick most of the time but he didn't make blood related references and gave an honest effort to help the Order. He didn't care for people in general, and his actions weren't directed for them or at them. Why didn't she just take the chance she was always talking about taking—oh yea: Rose; his girlfriend.