Nicknames
Previously "Once Upon A Time"

A small snapshot into the mystery and madness that is the relationship of Ginny Weasley and Draco Malfoy.

When I was one, you called me Red.

It was the most obvious nickname really, and the easiest for you to pronounce. I don't know where it came from – whether your father told you to call me that, or if it was the Ministry woman who looked after us while our fathers were at work. I don't remember much about that time to be honest, I really only know what people have told me over the years. I wish I remembered how I felt, life as a 1 year old must have so simple. We had no idea of the future, no idea what was going on around us. You didn't know a mudblood was, and I had not a clue of what "Death Eater" meant. War wasn't even a consideration, and we were blissfully ignorant of the fact that our families had spent an eternity hating each other. I would call out for my Drae, as I called you, and you would come waddling over to wherever I was and flop down next to me. You were aware of the fact that I was younger than you, and you treated me like a princess; like I was made of glass. You would play dolls with me, and then I would play cars with you – you always gave me the pink car and I always made sure you had the GI Joe doll. Come nap time we would make our way over to our favorite green and fold blanket in the corner – you walking, me crawling – hold hands and curl up beside each other on the floor. My back would be pressed firmly against your front and you would throw a protective arm around me and hold on tight. The ministry worker in charger said that we slept like that until everyday until we were old enough to skip naptime. Our fathers would come and they would pull us in opposite directions to leave, and while we screamed and reached for each other they would glare daggers at each other. This happened every day, but we never noticed them – we just wanted each other. God I wish I could reclaim that innocence. To be able to ignore everything around us and just focus on being together…now that would be heaven.

When I was five, you called me Freckles.

Once again you chose the obvious nickname. I still called you Drae, but only because the day I called you Blondie it took me two whole hours to get you to speak to me. That was cruel, by the way. Do you have any idea how long two hours is to a 4 year old whose best friend won't speak to her? It's the equivalent of forever. It was only when I sat in the corner of the porch and began to sob that you relented. You put your arms around me and I swore never to call you Blondie again. You swore you'd never make me cry again, and I believed you. I kept my promise, but you lied. By this point we had a small idea of what our surnames meant – they meant we weren't supposed to be friends, but we didn't care. You simply held my hand and said that we would be two who would change it all. I smiled and nodded, although I didn't really understand the whole thing. I think that when your father started to become afraid that you weren't going to be what he had always hoped. I'm not one hundred per cent sure, but I think that's when he started to beat you. When we played Families I used to have to yell at you for smacking the babies. I couldn't understand why you would think that beating a child was normal. You seemed to fall over a lot too – when we plated Doctors you always had heaps of bruises. They were usually pretty big too – did you run into the doorknob Draco? Silly boy, I would say. It wasn't until later that I understood. My mother cried the day that I told her I wanted to marry you, and we'd have lots of babies just like she and Daddy had. I didn't understand that, either. Wasn't marriage supposed to be a happy thing? I guess there was a lot I didn't understand back then. I don't know whether to claim innocence, or put it down to selective ignorance. All I know is that when you pulled me onto the horse shaped pile of sticks you had somehow charmed to move, the world faded away and you were all mine. My Drae.

When I was 10, you called me Spice.

That was the year that you left for Hogwarts – the worst year of my life. At that stage anyway. There have been a few bad ones since then, but they're all in the past. But that year, I lost my brother and my best friend all in one stupid train ride. For the first time ever, I would have to spend 265 days without seeing your face. I would have to make new friends and find knew ways to have fun. I snuck away from my parents to say goodbye to you at the station before you boarded the Hogwarts Express. "You're the sweetest girl I've ever met," you whispered into my hair while hugging me goodbye. "But you've got the most amazing hint of Spice. Promise me you won't ever lose that," I nodded, and you wiped my tears away with a finger, smiling at me. "I promise I'll write to you," you said, and then you left. On the platform your parents sneered at my mother and I, and I'm sure I heard them whisper something about dirt. You and I remained indifferent to each other, but I cried the whole way home. It felt like I spent the whole year crying. I received a million owls that year – letters from Ron, lectures from Percy, and stories of hilarity (and a couple of toilet seats) from Fred and George, but not a single thing from you. Once again I kept my promise, and once again I kept my promise to you, and once again you lied. I think that was when I realized that when you came home for summer, you wouldn't be coming home to me.

When I was eleven, you called me Weasley.

My name, which I had always been so proud of, now became a scathing insult – something dirty. In Diagon Alley you accused me of being Harry's girlfriend. Yes, I had a crush on him, but since when did sticking up for someone mean that you were their girlfriend? Up until that point, I had hoped that you had just been too bust t come and see me, but then I knew the truth. Two very important things happened to me that day. First, I realized that your eyes were now filled with hate rather than love, and that broke my heart. And second, I found that horrible book, that stupid diary which would change my life forever. At my lowest point, when I had just lost my best friend, I made a new one. But he betrayed me too, just like you had. Granted, you never tried to make me kill people, nor did you ever try to kill me yourself, but the pain was the same. In the moments before Harry saved my life, I truly believed that I was going to die. And I saw it not as something to fear, but as an opportunity to never have to see your hate filled flare directed at me ever again. That was the year you joined the Quidditch team too. Harry, Ron and Hermione complained constantly about your lack of real talent – Daddy had simply bought you a spot on the house team. But I knew how hard you had always trained, how much craved to play the game. When you lost to Harry, I cheered with the rest, but inside I cried for you. I knew how much it would have hurt you, and I knew the beating you later receive for it would be particularly sever. It still amazes me that I never realized how in love with you I was. Event throughout the drama with Tom and the pain I felt that year, my heart ached for you. I still thought of you, even when underneath my bright smile, I could feel the floor falling beneath me.

When I was twelve, you called me nothing.

To you, that's what I was. I won't pretend that didn't hurt. We had been inseparable for nearly ten years, how could you just forget that? You spent all your time with that tart Pansy Parkinson. I don't think she knew about us at that stage, but she still took delight in parading you in front of me. Perhaps she just liked to remind me that I was a dirty Weasley and I would never have such things. Bitch. That year was truly horrible for me. After everything that had happened the year before, everything just went back to normal. It was like they thought that because I was smiling that I was fine. But the pain had not gone, things were not normal, the wounds had not healed, and I craved you more than I ever had before. On top of everything else, Sirius Black escaped and tried to kill my brother. I had not idea what he was after, and so I feared for my life. After all, one dark wizard had already come after me; it made sense that another would too. If only I knew at that stage how much of a pussycat he was. Or should I say a puppydog. That would have made my life a little bit easier that year. But only a little bit. The day you were attacked by the Hippogriff, I was in the hospital helping Madam Pomfrey put away her potions. At first I didn't realize it was you – blood was covering your face and upper body. But when Pansy started screaming your name, I froze. The potions I was holding slipped from my hands and I went numb with fear. What if you died before I had a chance to tell you how much I missed you? After Pansy left, I sat by your bed and watched you all night. You tossed and turned, mumbling and crying out. I held your good hand, and washed your clammy face with warm water, knowing that you would be okay, but worrying anyway. In the middle of the night you woke suddenly and stared at me, frowning. "I told you not to lose your spice," you whispered. "You're breaking your promise Red." You smiled, and then you went into a deep, peaceful sleep. The next day you claimed to remember nothing, and things went back to normal. You swaggered out of the hospital wing with your healed arm in a totally unnecessary sling. But your eyes seemed different, somewhat softer, after that day, and I clung to the hope that somewhere deep inside you was my Drae.

When I was thirteen, you called me brat.

That year was a big year. The Quidditch Cup and Triwizard Tournament, and then suddenly (and very quietly) Voldemort rose and all hell broke loose. It began at the Quidditch Cup. Honestly, we all should have seen it coming. For the first time in years the Death Eaters came out to play, and then someone summoned the Dark Mark. These things were apparently (according to Harry at least) coincidences, but this is the Wizarding World. We should have known better than to believe in coincidences. But all that drama came after the really good bit: the Quidditch Cup. I was so excited to be going; Dad had gotten us the most amazing tickets. And then we got there and suddenly you were there. You looked amazing. You were wearing a tailored black suit (very muggle of you by the way, I'm proud) which set off your pale skin and grey eyes brilliantly. I was almost too busy staring at you to be upset about Harry nearly throwing himself off the balcony to be with the Veela. Almost. I saw you again later in the woods while all the commotion was going on. Well, I say I saw you; I actually barreled into you in my haste to get away, and then bounced off you like a ball in one of those muggle pinball machines. You sneered at me, I remember, and I couldn't help but stare at you again. "What are you looking at Brat?" you asked me. "The monster you've become," I replied. I think I shocked you a little bit then, because you sort of gaped at me while I brushed myself off and calmly walked away. The minute I was out of your sight range however, that calm disappeared and I ran as hard and as fast as I could, until my legs ached and I dropped to the ground. And then I cried. Where once there had been Drae, now there just Malfoy, son of Lucius, the man who had ruined my life. Later that year I was so busy trying to help make sure Harry got through the Tournament alive that I didn't notice you were beginning to slip away from the world. Years ago, I would have realized the pressure you were facing, I would have noticed the bruises that were starting to reappear on your skin after every appearance your father made at the school. Once upon a time I would have tricked you into telling me your problems, and held you while you pretended not to cry, but I gave up on you that year. I thought that you were too far gone for me to save. And besides, you didn't want me to save you anyway, did you?

When I was fourteen, you called me whore.

That was the year that my position escalated from "Ron's annoying little sister" to "friend". The year that Harry Potter finally asked me to be his girlfriend. The year I felt like everything was falling into place and all my dreams were coming true. It was like, for the first time since you had given up on me, I had a new place in the world. I fit somewhere. I was no longer the square trying to fit into the circle. Ok, bad example, but you get the idea. My God you should have seen the look on your face the day Harry and I walked into the Great Hall holding hands – it was like you were trying to set fire on us with your eyes. I honestly didn't care that day. "Harry Potter's little whore" you called me later. "Fucking pathetic little lap dog." Now THAT hurt. But I didn't show you that. In fact I didn't show you anything anymore. I found that the best way to deal with you was to ignore you, and so I saved my true emotions for my friends. Ron, Harry, Luna, Hermione, Neville…the people who appreciated me and accepted me for who I was. My last name meant nothing to them, except that it was the same as Ron's. I resigned myself to the fact that you and I had been bred to hate each other, and that destiny had simply run its course. Same as you hated me because I was a Weasley, I hated you because you were a Malfoy. Because your father was a murderous Death Eaters who had once played with the life of an eleven year old girl like it was a disposable toy. Besides, for all I knew, you were a murderous Death Eater in training. Ok, so I had my own prejudices that year, but what did you expect? You chose Umbridges side in the damn war! Although I couldn't help but think (when I looked back on the situation later on) that in Umbridge's office before I cursed you, you weren't holding me anywhere near as tight as you could have.

When I was fifteen, you called me Kiddo.

I'll never forget the day it began. Harry and I were walking along the corridor towards the Great Hall. It was a Saturday, and it was breakfast time. I'd been up the whole night studying, and I was coming down with something, so the last thing I really wanted was food. As we passed Moaning Myrtle's bathroom I realized that I really needed to go to the toilet. Harry offered to wait, but I told him to go ahead without me – I'd either meet in him in the Great Hall or head to the library and see him later. He kissed me softly and then went off in search of food. I remember watching him and thinking how perfect everything was, and how lucky I was, even if he was a little paranoid about you cooking up some evil plot. As I entered the bathroom, I could hear crying, but that was nothing unusual in there. It wasn't until I went to turn into the first cubicle and saw you sitting on the floor with tears slowly falling down your face that I realized Myrtle was nowhere to be seen. You didn't see me at first, and so I watched you. And I one of the strongest people I had ever known fall to pieces in front of me, and it haunted me. It didn't matter that the only words we had spoken over the past few years had been insults – the boy sitting front of me was not Malfoy, but Drae, coming to me after he had "fallen down the stairs" again. "Draco?" I said after a moment. "Draco why are you crying?" You looked at me and sneered. "Do you think this is funny Weasley? Does it entertain you? Evil Draco Malfoy reduced to tears in a girl's bathroom!" Your head fell into your hands and your shoulders shook with silent tears. I did the thing that came most naturally to me; I dropped to the floor and wrapped my arms around your shoulders, holding you. We met quite a lot after that, in the Room of Requirement. I never asked you what you were crying about or what you were planning, and so you never lied to me. At the end of the year, after Dumbledore died and I found out the truth, I tried to hate you, but I couldn't. Not when you sent me tear stained letter filled with apologies and laced with far. Kiddo, I'm so so sorry. I should have told you. I can't tell you where I am, but I'm definitely coming back to Hogwarts. I'm so scared that I'm not entirely sure that's safe, but I'm brave, I'll survive. See you soon! D. I never told anyone about any of it. I was ashamed to admit that you sent me letters, and I was even more ashamed to admit that I replied. I make my excuses for this of course. We were kids, we didn't really know better. Should we have? Maybe.

When I was sixteen, you called me Baby.

The official line was that there was no solid proof that you took any part in the tragedy of Albus Dumbledore's death, or the events leading up to it. After much ranting and raving from Harry, I worked out that the ministry didn't trust his statement because of his animosity towards you and his close relationship with Dumbledore. The only thing anyone could prove beyond reasonable doubt was that you had fixed a cabinet, but that wasn't exactly a criminal offence. So you returned to Hogwarts, much to the disgust of the Gryffindors and the pleasure of the Slytherins. For a whole month I put up with listening to what an evil git you were, courtesy of the Golden Trio. Meanwhile I met you every single night in the Room of Requirement. Sometimes we talked, sometimes we studied, and occasionally the room would give us a muggle movie player and we would sit and watch movies all night. During the day while I listened to Harry whinge, all I thought about was seeing you again. It was on one of those days when I had zoned out, that Harry Potter accused me of being a bad girlfriend. Apparently I wasn't attentive enough. "Harry all I ever hear about these days is how fucking evil Draco Malfoy is. You said it yourself; he didn't want to kill Dumbledore. He's sorry. I know it, you know it, so get over it! I loved Dumbledore too, and I miss him like crazy, but you need to move on! Or, if you want to spend all your time ranting about Draco, go and rant TO him. He's really rather interesting when you let him talk back. Granted he won't fuck you as much or as well as I do, but you'll get over that, seeing as how you don't want it much these days anyway!" My ears were ringing and I was furious. He seemed to actually be considering my words, when he raised his head with dark eyes, and I realized my mistake. "What do you mean, he's interesting? Have you been speaking to him or something?" I just looked at him, and he shook his head. "I can't believe this. I guess I don't need to go fuck Malfoy, because one of us already seems to be doing it. Is that why you're so inattentive these days? Because every minute you're with me you're waiting for the next time you can scream his name again?" I slapped him hard and picked up my books. "Draco Malfoy is a good person. Good people make mistakes. I have never slept with Draco Malfoy, but I can tell you he treats me a lot better than you do." I turned to leave and there you were. You looked at me for a minute, shocked, and then you walked out of the room without saying a word. "Good person hey Ginny? Or maybe you're just an idiot." I laughed at him, making my way to the door. "Maybe I am. But finally I'm a single one again, and that feels great!" I sat alone at dinner that night, right at the end of my table, trying to work out what I had said that had made you angry at me. Suddenly a pale hand stretched out in front of me. I looked up, and there you were. "Nobody puts Baby in the corner," you whispered to me, referencing the very first movie we had ever watched together. I took your hand and you led me through the Great Hall, past Harry, past the people I had mistaken for my friends, all the way to the Slytherin table. From that day on, I sat at your table, I socialized with your friends, and I slept in your dorm. That became my life, and my family (the people who truly loved me) accepted it, simply because I was smiling again. I honestly don't remember who seduced who, but it seemed only natural a few months later when we pushed our beds together. It was two years to the day I had begun my relationship with Harry when you grabbed me hand, walked me into the Great Hall and kissed me in front of everyone. Slytherins punched the air in success, Gryffindors bowed their heads, Ron smiled slightly, and for the first time in my life, I glowed.

My seventh year was pure hell. I had Head Girl responsibilities, I was studying for NEWTS, Harry was my Defense teacher and I hardly ever got to see you. Hogsmeade weekends were heaven. I would meet you in the Three Broomsticks and we would have lunch together, talking about all the things going on in our lives. I would bombard you with questions about Auror training, and you would reiterate your promise to castrate Harry if he gave me bad grades. At 2:30, you kissed me cheek and waved goodbye. A 2:45 under the cover of your invisibility cloak, you would tap my shoulder and I would make my excuses to whichever of my friends had filled your empty seat. We walked back up to the castle together, not speaking. I snuck you unto my private dorm, and the door did not open until the morning, when you would sneak out again. I think McGonagall had some idea of what was going on, but she never said anything. The funniest day of my life was the day I walked into Defense and you were standing behind Harry's desk. He was away on some super secret mission and you were to be his substitute until he returned. He took almost three weeks, and my God did we have some fun on that desk. At my Graduation you stood with my parents - a mark of how much things had changed. Voldemort was dead, and you had been a crucial part of his takedown. I never asked for details, and you never offered them. Later, I would plant trails of kisses all over the new scars that adorned your body. But that was later. The day of my graduation you patiently waited until I had spoken to each member of my family. My parents hugged me, and told me how proud they were that I had stood by you through your hell, and for being able to see past the tattoo that marred your left forearm. My brothers apologized for doubting me and told me that I had chosen wisely. You held me tight and kissed my forehead, running a hand through my hair. I stepped back to smile at you, and your eyes smiled back at me, your mouth betrayed nothing. And then you held out that small black box, and you said the words I had never expected to hear, and my world changed forever.

As I stare down at my cream colored dress and placed a shaking hand over my stomach, where a life slowly grows inside me, I realize that today is simply the day the you give me my new nickname.

Today I turn twenty-one, and you call me your wife.

A/N: So this is my revised version of Once Upon A Time, I hope you like it. Now before you review and tell me I'm a moron and that Ginny dated Harry when she was fifteen, I AM WELL AWARE OF THIS. For the purpose of my story, I changed that detail, and put them together when she was fourteen, ok? There were a couple of other little things I changed simply to make the story work better. Anyway, let me know what you think kids, and I'll be updating my other stories soon too ) Reviews are much appreciated, Flames are not. Thanks!